


One for sorrow

by thebookhunter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU Teens, AU human, Ace/demi spectrum Loki, Jock Thor, M/M, Poor Loki, Sibling Incest, Slow Burn, So much angst, Teenagers, a dash of ironfrost, as in, bc i do what i want, brother angst and feels, but i'll switch when i need to, false identities, for plot reasons, i give you, isolation loneliness all of that, lots and lots of online chats, lots of teenage angst, online chatting, secrets and lies, so much pain, the slowest of burns, this is heavily from Loki's POV, very important character development okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2018-11-17 07:59:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 22
Words: 113,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11271369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebookhunter/pseuds/thebookhunter
Summary: One for sorrow,Two for joy,Three for a girl,Four for a boy,Five for silver,Six for gold,Seven for a secret,Never to be told.Eight for a wish,Nine for a kiss,Ten for a bird,You must not miss.Loki catches his brother sex chatting girls online behind Jane’s back. Thor is a real asshole about it. He’s a real asshole, period. He deserves a lesson. And Loki deserves revenge. He sets up a profile as a fictional girl to entrap his brother and ruin what he has with Jane. Or that was the plan. As it happens, things don’t go quite as expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo is that WIP number, hm, 5? 
> 
> I am SO SORRY about the lack of updates for the rest of stuff. I am working on it, but it's very hard going at the moment. Multiple reasons. I am especially trying with Kings I swear. Worldbuilding be TOUGH, but we'll get there!
> 
> Now. This story seems alive and kicking, and the writing is simple (I will keep it so!), and I need to be doing something, so there. It's entirely plotted and drafted, and has been for some time. I hope the updates can come quite quickly.
> 
> (*) Tagging Loki's sexuality vaguely bc it's supposed to be. He doesn't have a clue at this point. I don't mean any disrespect to either label or to anyone's sexuality by it.

 

 

Thor gets home from school, drops his bag, drinks a glass of milk. Mum and dad won’t be in till late. He climbs the stairs in threes, and opens the door to find his pain in the ass little brother sitting at his desk, in front of the computer.

“The fuck are you doing in my room?” snaps Thor.

“The fuck are _you_ doing in your room?” says Loki, without even turning to look, still scrolling. “Who the fuck is Amora_The_Enchantress? Because from that pic, I can tell it’s definitely not Jane…”

Thor strides to Loki’s side; his eyes widen. The chat is open, and Amora’s tits are filling the screen. _Shit_.

“None of your fucking business!” he roars, and brutally shoves Loki aside.

He turns the chat off as Loki rolls away on the swivel chair, rubbing his shoulder where Thor’s fingers sunk in. He has that little-shitty expression of his plastered on, not quite a grin, more like a glint in his eye that never fails to make Thor’s blood boil. Oh, Loki has no idea how much trouble he’s in.

“I’m going to fucking kill you. Get the fuck out of my room!” Thor snarls.

“You said I could use your computer for the art project!” protests Loki, fucking brat.

“Permission fucking rescinded. Fuck off!”

Loki is still rubbing his shoulder.

“You should be nicer to me,” he says.

“Says who.”

“I just wonder what Jane would make of this hobby of yours.”

Thor pales – he’s really going to murder him now.

“It’s not like I’m cheating!” he argues. “This is just…”

“And I am sure she would see your point, of course,” says Loki, a coy blink in his eye.

“Are you fucking threatening me?” groans Thor.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” says Loki, hand on his heart, and that tone, oh, that fucking tone…

“You little shit,” hisses Thor. “You have no idea, do you? No idea. Have you never stopped to think why you’re not getting bashed in the head more often, with that goddamn attitude? Did you think they’ve warmed up to you in school or something? Who do you think protects you in that place, you stupid idiot? Who do you think keeps them away? Would you like me to tell them that from now on you’re on your own?”

Thor smirks when he sees the tension in Loki’s face, the furious squint. _Bam_ , bullseye, right where it fucking hurts. Oh, it’s so so sweet.

“You’re an asshole,” mutters his little brother.

Is that all he’s got? Feels too good, leaving Loki speechless. Thor can’t help hammering it in.

“And you’re lucky we’re blood related, and that mum sort of likes you, otherwise I’d be the fucking first in line to put you in your fucking place,” whispers Thor, leaning in. “I’m very, very tired of your shit, you hear? Maybe if you could get some pussy, or some dick, or whatever the fuck it is you’re into, you’d have less time to be such a nosy little dickwad! Get your own fucking life, and keep the fuck out of mine!”

“I don’t give a fuck about your pathetic sex chats!” hisses Loki, too angry and humiliated to get much of a voice out.

“No, all you care about is being a jerk to anyone who tries to be nice to you, right? You think your shit smells better than anyone else’s, and that’s why you don’t have any friends! Go back to your fucking books and your fucking phone and your dark little corner, where you can be happy making believe you’re alone because nobody gets you, because you’re so cool and clever, when the fact is nobody fucking likes you because you’re a mean, pathetic _shit_.”

Loki’s chin quivers, his lips thin. He looks eight years old.

“You’re an asshole,” he whispers thickly, and he finally stands up and stomps out the door, with a slam.

“And stay out!” yells Thor.

He hears Loki stomping in his room right behind that wall for some time, throwing things around.

Ah, fuck. This stupid war of theirs, they’ve been waging it for years, and it never ends. Thor guesses he’s won this round. A crushing victory. Doesn’t feel like winning. When does it ever.

Oh well, it’s done now. It’s not like he can take it back. _Sigh_. Why does he have to do this every time?

 

 

*     *     *

 

 

For about half an hour, Loki is a concentrated ball of _ugh_ . Rage, heartbreak, humiliation, fury, hatred, bloodlust. Thor has cut into everything he know hurts the worst. Loki can hear his own stupid words, and still running through his head are all the things he should have thrown back at Thor and couldn’t, because he couldn’t, because his fucking body betrayed him. While Loki tried to fight back, his body wanted to cower in a corner and cry, and it wouldn’t let him talk, wouldn’t let him think. He _is_ fucking pathetic, and Thor is a fucking asshole, and nobody can hurt him as bad Thor can, nobody, and fuck you, fuck you, fuck yooooouu!! (He screamed that out loud. Thor bangs the wall.)

Loki paces, huffs and puffs. He will tame this fucking thing — he will tame it. Stick it right in, hold it back, bottle it down. He won’t shed a fucking tear. He won’t.

Calm down. Calm down. _Think_.

Thor is so, so stupid. He has no idea how much trouble he’s in. He has pissed you off real bad, and you’ll get your own back. You’re going to fucking obliterate him. You’re going to rip him to shreds. You’re going to find the way to do to him what he’s done to you. He’s going to fucking learn not to fucking mess with you. He’s going to hurt. He’s going to _bleed_.

 

It has taken a while, but Loki finally feels calmer, cooler. He has crushed his anger into a tiny, ultra-condensed, superheavy ball of a brand new, deadly metal. It gives off a kind of sickly heat. It’s like ballast. It grounds him. It helps him feel in control. Comes out as a kind of sour bitch face (“starving supermodel pout”, Thor called it once), but he can keep it buried deep. Even if it throbs and burns, and he never forgets it’s there, he can hide it under his accustomed teenage _ennui_.

At dinner, nobody mentions how quiet Loki is, how glum. Nobody asks how he’s feeling. He’s told them to leave him alone often enough, but still. He feels mum casting looks his way as he chats with dad about their day and the leak in the kitchen tap, but Loki stubbornly refuses to engage.

He wishes mum would ask. Not that he would tell her anything. But she doesn’t.

Later, lying in bed, Loki meditates. He entertains and discards several ideas. It has got to be something special. A fuck-you-very-much from yours truly. Something Loki can look back on with satisfaction. It’ll come to him, when it's ready.

____________

 

Thor is driving them all to school the next morning in his third-hand red pickup. Loki sits surly in the back seat, doesn’t even bitch about the heavy metal shit music his brother enjoys first fucking thing in the morning.

They pull up by Jane’s house. She and Darcy hop in.

“Morning!” says Jane. Always so bubbly.

Thor kisses her slowly with his eyes closed, like it means the world. Signature move. Makes them all melt. As for Loki, he wants to puke.

“Are you o-key, Lokey-dokey?” sing-songs Darcy, as she slumps by his side in the back seat, always too close. No concept of personal space, this girl.

Thor drives, smug as fuck with the flush on Jane’s cheeks and the sparkles in her eyes. He’s got her right where he wants her. God knows _why_ he wants her. I mean, Loki can see the attraction, sure, but he’d never think that Thor would. Then again, Thor was only yesterday chatting to a girl online with tits bigger than Jane’s head.

Thor and the two girls are chatting. Loki puts on his earbuds and takes himself away from this place.

 

“Are you alright, Loki?” asks Jane as she unbuckles, after they've parked in the school lot. She has this older sister vibe with him, condescending and patient and sweet. Loki loathes it. He’s not fucking twelve. And it prevents him from hating her as fully and freely as he would like.

“Got a headache,” grunts Loki.

“Need a pill or something?” says Thor, looking at him through the rearview mirror.

Loki glares at him. _Like you even care_. He just grunts again. “‘M fine.”

They walk to the building. Loki walks a few of steps behind. Darcy is glued to her phone. Thor and Jane walk hand in hand. He carries her bag, coos at her, whispers in her ears, kisses her neck. He even gets the fucking door for her, and he sends her on her way to Chem class with a long wet snog _and_ kissing her hand. And she giggles and flusters and toys with a lock of hair and she hovers one foot above the ground, she’s so in love. Lucky lucky Jane, the envy of the entire school; she has landed the perfect boyfriend.

...Too bad that only just yesterday, and god knows for how long, Mr. Perfect was jerking off to strangers on the internet who send him nudes behind Jane’s back. Sweet, earnest, honest Jane. She deserves to know who she’s dealing with, what he gets up to when she’s not looking. She deserves to know the full, ugly truth about Mr. Right.

And so, it hits him. Eureka. Loki knows how he’s going to teach his brother a lesson.

He can’t possibly tell Jane outright what Thor gets up to online, of course. For one, he’d like to survive this scheme. This needs to be an anonymous tip. And two… She needs to _see_ the actual words Thor was writing to that girl, to fully fathom the extent of his filthy trespass, things Loki wishes he had never had to read with his own two innocent eyes in the vicinity of even the mere _concept_ of a blood relative. Like, he needs brain bleach. Unfortunately, Loki didn’t take a screenshot of the chat with that Amora girl, and he doubts that he’d still find it there if he somehow gets access to Thor’s computer again. So he’ll have to think.

 

He hears giggling behind his back in class. He sits with his head high, back straight, and does not turn. Inside, he’s seething. Loki doesn’t try to draw attention, he really doesn’t. He keeps to himself and doesn’t react, or interact much at all for that matter. He just wants to be left alone to do his own thing, but wherever he goes, there are always people waiting to make him pay for… for existing, basically. For not minding if he fits in or not, for not submitting to their petty, idiotic unwritten rules of behaviour. For not being easy to pin down. For being quiet and clever. For breezing through classes other people struggle with. For having all those girls swooning for a passing look or a minute of his time (yes, he’s not blind), and not sparing any of them either.

Thor says he’s stupid for making things hard for himself. Loki tells him to fuck off, but the truth is, he doesn’t know how to act any different. He doesn’t like to make things hard for himself — he doesn’t. He tries to blend into the background. He’s just not very good at it. People are so fucking stupid, and vulgar, and mediocre, and petty, and bland. Loki simply could not manage to pass for one of the herd if he tried.

And yes, he thought things were getting better, that maturity was beginning to reach some of the assholes that used to make his life in this place a living hell, that they were developing interests beyond bullying, harassing, and pestering. You _dumbass._ It stings, like, a lot, to think he owes Thor for his peace of mind. He hates it. He doesn’t want to owe Thor anything. He hates Thor. Himself. This place. His fucking life. He wants to fucking burn it all down, everything, raze it to the ground.

 

 

As he walks to the bus later that day, the idea presents itself, with the elegant simplicity and obviousness of the most beautiful scientific theories, something that seemed always plain for anyone to see, once they managed to clear their minds and their sights: A trap.

And so, that afternoon, after school, he downloads the app Thor was using for his sleazy sex chats, and creates a profile. Sex, female. Age, 18. So good so far. Favourite music, favourite films, favourite books, hm. What should he put in? He knows pretty well Thor’s tastes, but he can’t just copy those, can he? Besides, who’s to say that’s what will draw Thor in? Look at Jane, they’re not exactly two peas in the pod, are they? What does his brother like?

(…Loki, he used to like Loki. He used to say Loki was his favourite person in the world. Then high school happened, and apparently super-cool captains of the rugby team don’t have their kid brothers as their favourite anything. Actually, they would rather pretend they don’t have brothers at all, especially when they’re awkward and unpopular and hated by everyone. Right? Fuck you, Thor.)

Anyone can tell a lie. Not everyone can tell it well. And not many people can tell one lie after another without ever being caught. The trick is for people not to suspect. The moment they pin you down for a liar, they won’t even believe you when you’re describing the rain falling on their heads. So lying isn’t hard, but you have to weave in enough threads of truth to keep people guessing. And so, to create Miss Honeytrap, Loki fills out her profile mostly as himself. Because Thor does not suspect what Loki is up to, so he won’t be on the lookout, and because it’s not like Thor knows what Loki likes or doesn’t like these days, does he? Loki’s done some growing up since they were close like that.

Pic. He needs to find the right pic. He browses Instagram trying to find one. What is Thor’s type? His dick doesn’t seem too picky when it comes to hookups, but for girlfriends, he seems to have a type; Sif was his first, then Lorelei, then Jane. They’re all brunettes, not overly curvy, bit boyish even, beautiful but not central-pages pin-up beautiful. Classy, aloof. Bit forbidding even. Challenging. Loki looks for the perfect representation of all those qualities in one single pic. It takes him hours.

Finally. There she is. That’s the one. Long legs, long black hair, feminine enough, but not too much. Cute, beautiful, and in that pic, where she’s leaning to fuss a big wolf of a dog, just that hint of cleavage, enticing but not too slutty. Perfect.

Her alias. One_for_Sorrow5654. Makes Loki grin. He knows what he’s on about, but Thor will never get it.

_Click on CREATE to update your profile._

Next, let’s message Thor. Loki types in Thor’s alias, Storm99, and there he is, first on top. He clicks on the thumbnail and the profile appears. Behold, the asshole in full glory. Not bashful, is he? A poolside pic, just his swimming trunks, a broad white smile, hair down, tanned and muscled and _oh so dreamy_ . Makes you want to retch. And the info on his profile is also true, as far as Loki can tell. He shakes his head heavily. Favourite Books: _The Goblet of Fire._ Favourite films: _E.T., The Goonies, Braveheart._ Such a derp.

_Do you want to leave Storm99 a message?_

Yeah, yes he does. But what.

 _‘Hey there stud’_ — nah, too brash.

 _‘Hey there, you seem cool…’_ — lame.

Dammit. Finding the right balance is hard. And Loki is probably overthinking this, right?

 _‘Hey there. Nice pic, cool profile. I’d like to talk! Send me a mssg if you’re interested’_ — and a kissy emoji, and a winky one. There. _Send_.

Now we wait.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cut Thor a break. Do you have siblings? Did you live through adolescence with them? Are you doing it now? You know it's not easy, even when there's a lot of love involved. We can all be horrible to each other. We can be less than compassionate and sympathetic. We see things in black and white. We are cruel. But we grow older and mature and develop empathy and become nicer, better human beings, and things get better. Here's hoping anyway.
> 
> Point of this is, Thor is not the villain in this story, even if he is to Loki right now. And I emphasise: There are no villains in this story. If you can't refrain from hating Thor, at least keep it out of my inbox bc I don't want to hear it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor answers Sorrow's message. It's not going to be as easy as Loki predicted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who has this chapter done and no self-control whatsoever. I'm excited about it what can i say
> 
> the 3rd one is finished too HNNNGG somebody stop me

 

 

The English Lit exam is still ages away, but Loki loves Beowulf, so he’s working on it. His phone buzzes, but it takes him a second to react. Oh, right, the dating app. He is not used to that sound yet.

He has a full inbox already, stuffed with a variety of openers from sleazes wanting to get into Imaginary Girl’s pants. But the warning buzz is a new development.  

Oh, look who it is…

 

_Storm99: looking for me princess?_

 

Princess. Loki smirks. You’re so fucking busted, jerkwad.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: hey stud_

_Storm99: lol_

_Storm99: what’s the dog’s name?_

 

What dog? Huh? Oh, right, the profile photo of Miss Honeytrap. Hm. Think fast. Buster? Toby? Snoopy?

Edgar Allan Poe is looking unimpressed from the much-thumbed cover of the book on Loki’s bedside table.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: Raven_

 

(Since it’s a black dog and all.)

 

_Storm99: you like birds then?_

 

The fuck is he on about?

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: why u say that?_

_Storm99: one for sorrow_

_Storm99: isn’t that about magpies? magpies, ravens. birds_

 

Uh.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah, they’re alright_

_Storm99: they’r very clever_

 

Ok, Thor, what the fuck. Is that how you chat them up? How does he ever manage to get any?

Let’s get down to business, shall we, we ain’t got all fucking day.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: that really u in the pic?_

_Storm99: lol yes_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u’r very hot_

 

…Which is kind of a weird thing to be typing and sending to one’s own brother, to put it mildly. The things Loki has to do for justice.

 

_Storm99: thank u_

_Storm99: u’r beautiful_

 

That’s more like it.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: want 2 get off?_

_Storm99: whoa_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m so horny_

_Storm99: no rush princess take it easy_

_Storm99: we could talk_

_Storm99: i’d like to know more about u_

 

Loki huffs out loud. Jesus Christ, Thor, what the fuck are you, a girl?

Dammit. The asswipe wants to _talk_. Loki was hoping to get this done and dusted in under half an hour. He really is not particularly crazy about this whole notion of chatting his brother up online. Especially now that he’s actually doing it.

Anyway. Keep your eyes on the prize. Patience. Hunting is a waiting game.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what u want 2 know?_

_Storm99: what do u like 2 do?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: suck cock_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: maybe i’m not the man for u_

 

SHIT. No no no no, shit don’t lose him. Think, Loki, think! Change tack.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: sorry i’m new at this_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: kind of my first time_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u seem like such a cool guy and u’r so handsome_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i didn’t want to come through as a prude_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: u don’t need to worry about that_

_Storm99: and thank u for the compliments_

_Storm99: u’r really pretty and u seem really cool 2_

_Storm99: how old are u really_

 

Shit. That obvious?

Hm. He could stick to his guns. But a good way to establish trust is… hell, being truthful. Right? Give a little, to get a little?

It’s okay, you can use this. It might be a bit rusty these days, but Thor has a protective big bro streak miles wide. Let’s mine it.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: 15_

_Storm99: right_

_Storm99: figures_

 

Loki gives his phone the middle finger. Like Thor’s a grown ass man of the world or something himself.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and u?_

_Storm99: what it says on the tin. 18_

 

Yeah, by all of one month and ten days. Don’t sound so smug, Thor.

 

_Storm99: I think i’m too old for u princess sorry_

 

Oh, no, no you don’t.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m only a couple of months short of 16_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i like older guys way better_

_Storm99: that so_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: boys my age are dicks_

_Storm99: lol i know i was one_

_Storm99: but u got 2 watch urself around older guys princess_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: older guys like u?_

_Storm99: Lol_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u don’t seem like a creep_

_Storm99: am not_

 

(Matter of opinion)

 

_Storm99: but that’s what i’d say if i was_

_Storm99: right?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i guess i’ll have 2 get to know u better_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: fine we can talk_

 

Phew. Crisis averted.

 

_Storm99: but u don’t have 2 try 2 impress me or anything_

_Storm99: u’r cool i like u, u don’t need 2 b anything u’r not_

_Storm99: what r u doing here anyway? why aren’t u out having fun with your friends?_

 

Oh my god, you patronising asshole. I said I was fifteen, not eight!

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: this is fun_

_Storm99: isn’t there a kid ur age u like?_

 

Lord, have mercy.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: told u. they’re dicks_

_Storm99: lol u may be right_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i’m shy_

_Storm99: u don’t seem shy to me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: IRL_

_Storm99: i see_

_Storm99: so u don’t hang out much_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: try never_

_Storm99: so you come here_

 

Hm. All this “too old for you” and “be careful around older guys” has given Loki ideas about how to handle this. Thor has himself for a knight in shiny armor, doesn’t he? Always has. Well then, come and rescue your damsel, free her from the tower, show her the world.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: sex sort of scares me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i want it_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but it’s kind of petrifying_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i know i need to be smart_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: so i thought i could get some experience here_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: interacting with real people_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and that might make me less scared IRL_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: does that make any sense_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: u mean u’ve never done anything?_

 

Whoops. Should Loki not have said any of this?

Damn, he’s frozen. He could make something up... but won’t Thor catch him again? Lying with the truth is always a better strategy. Though that means… It means owning the embarrassing truth Loki has been keeping to himself for months.

 

_Storm99: princess?_

 

Make up your mind. Don’t be stupid. Who cares. Use it to your own advantage. He’ll never know it’s you anyway.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: made out_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: twice_

_Storm99: yes?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: at a couple of parties this year_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: wanted to know how it feels_

 

Oh, and Loki has some news his brother will positively _luuurve_ about Miss Honeytrap. And he isn’t even making it up.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: once with a boy, once with a girl_

 

He can imagine the glazed look on his brother’s eyes as he pictures the leggy brunette of the profile pic on her first night out on the town, with her tongue down another girl’s throat. Oh, the irony of it all.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: got a problem with that?_

_Storm99: nope_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: hot?_

_Storm99: ‘fraid so yeah. I’m that typical_

_Storm99: u offended?_

 

Offended is not the right word, _brother_.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: lol ’s fine_

_Storm99: u bi then?_

 

Uh _._

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: not sure_

_Storm99: u liked it?_

 

That plunging, sickly feeling. Loki’s been praying that nobody finds out about those two disastrous encounters for months. When Thor heard Loki had been to those parties, he said it was time he got himself some. Loki had let him believe that he had, and bullshitted his way through the teasing that followed. He kept it cool and got away with it. But all along, he was shivering inside, and what he could have used from Thor was some fucking reassurance. He was in such a muddle, freaking out, desperate for a nice word, maybe even a hug. But that required opening up and trusting Thor with his shame, and Loki knew better than to share with his brother anything that really mattered, anything that could hurt. Thor wouldn’t give a shit about it, and then he would take the piss profusely. Thanks, but no thanks.

...Loki had felt safe telling Thor _everything_ once. Can you even believe that? Because Loki right now can’t.

Anyway, he can use this. What happened. Like actors do, and writers. Right? Flesh out the character, fill in the details, make it more real. So Loki spills (and he self-applauds the choice of words).

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i was sick_

_Storm99: were u drunk?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: no_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: a little_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but no, i think it was a panic attack_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:: girl was so handsy_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i thought the boy would be worse but nope_

_Storm99: u were sick both times?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yup_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: see why i have a problem?_

_Storm99: don’t say that_

_Storm99: there’s nothing wrong with u_

 

In his quiet room, Loki scoffs with derision.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: now u’ll tell me it’s totally normal and that it happens to everyone_

_Storm99: more common than u think i’m sure_

_Storm99: if it was the first time_

_Storm99: and u didn’t know them too well_

_Storm99: or didn’t trust them enough_

_Storm99: and they were handsy_

_Storm99: and going 2 fast 4 u_

_Storm99: and u were a little drunk_

_Storm99: throwing up sounds like a perfectly normal reaction 2 me_

 

Loki looks at his screen in puzzlement. That doesn’t sound like his stupid emotional wrecking ball of a brother at all.

 

_Storm99: were u attracted 2 them?_

_Storm99: or was it more about_

_Storm99: idk, ticking a box_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: not sure_

_Storm99: i think that’s ur answer there_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what do u mean_

_Storm99: when u’r into someone usually u know it_

_Storm99: u may want to touch them or not, but u feel it_

_Storm99: and if u’r unsure what u feel, maybe u shouldn’t let them in ur pants anyway_

_Storm99: did u know them much?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: no_

_Storm99: there u go then_

_Storm99: didn’t know them well, didn’t trust them, were not into them_

_Storm99: so ur body said how about no_

_Storm99: it’s normal_

 

Loki starts typing without much thought.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: with the boy i thought i was doing well_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: he took it slow_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: he was kissing my neck and then he_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: yes?_

 

Loki gulps, an odd, unpleasant churn in his underbelly, echo of what he felt that night.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: he sucked my nipples. was nice_

_Storm99: he took ur shirt and bra off?_

_Storm99: u were ok with that?_

 

Oops. Hm, forgot that. It would have been a bigger deal for a girl, right? (…Hell, it was quite a big deal for Loki, too).

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i let him believe i was more ok with it than i was_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: didn’t tell him it was only my second time_

_Storm99: ur first time was with the girl?_

 

Loki facepalms in silence. What a fucking mess.

Yeah, it had been. He wanted to try the mainstream way first, okay? Because what if he isn’t…? Hell, he has no idea still what he is, or isn’t.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: girls are supposed to be nicer_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: sweeter_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: that’s what i thought anyway_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: not too sure now_

_Storm99: LOL i know_

_Storm99: i love girls but they’re not necessarily nice or sweet_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u live and u learn_

_Storm99: ur very brave tho_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: am not_

_Storm99: u are_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: really not_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: or why would i react like that_

_Storm99: what’s it got to do with courage_

_One_for_sorrow5654: exactly_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: how did it feel_

_Storm99: when u took ur top off and he u know_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i was very nervous_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but then it started to_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: feel nice?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: in a way yeah_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i mean i was still very nervous but_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it got me really wet_

 

(He’s barely stopped himself on the ‘r’ for ‘hard’)

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: so i thought i was doing ok_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but then he groped me u know_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and then i just_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i felt like i couldn’t breathe_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i was all_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i had to run_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i was sick_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it was pretty horrible_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i was so embarrassed_

_Storm99: what did he do?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: he followed me he asked me if i was ok_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i said i was really drunk_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: he didn’t want to kiss me after that_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: understandable_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: so he lost interest_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: made an excuse said i’ll be right back he never did_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i hope he didn’t tell anyone_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: he probably has right? i bet he told everyone_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: anyway i haven’t tried since_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: idk maybe it’s just not for me_

 

Deep sigh. Okay, so it’s out. His deep, deep shame. Loki the iceberg, the cooler-than-thou god of smooth, can’t handle some basic snogging and a hint of heavy petting.

 

_Storm99: doesn’t matter if they told people_

_Storm99: let people say whatever the fuck they want_

_Storm99: like i said, there’s nothing wrong with u_

_Storm99: nothing_

_Storm99: ur 15_

_Storm99: u’ll probs hate me for saying this but u’r very young_

_Storm99: it’s ok if u haven’t figured anything out yet_

_Storm99: and if u try to force it, it’s normal that ur body reacts_

_Storm99: honestly nothing u’ve told me screams freakshow to me_

_Storm99: u just need to try with someone u can trust_

_Storm99: and u’r attracted to_

_Storm99: and then take it easy don’t force it_

_Storm99: there’s no rush_

_Storm99: and hey u don’t have to do anything u don’t want 2 do_

_Storm99: u don’t have to do anything, period_

_Storm99: don’t feel u have 2_

_Storm99: don’t feel u have 2 WANT 2 even_

_Storm99: some people are just not into it and that’s fine_

_Storm99: u may think everybody’s at it_

_Storm99: or that everybody wants it_

_Storm99: but that’s just not true_

_Storm99: u’ll b ok i promise_

_Storm99: u’ll figure it out and u’ll be ok_

_Storm99: take it easy in the meantime yeah?_

 

Loki holds the phone in his hand and stares at the screen in disbelief. He lifts his eyes to the wall that separates his brother’s room from his own, then back to the phone.

 

_Storm99: princess u there?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m here_

_Storm99: u ok?_

 

Is he? The symptoms scream ‘shellshock’ to him.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but i need to go now_

_Storm99: ok_

_Storm99: talk again soon? i’d like that_

 

Well, there is a fucking plan in place here, in case you had forgotten.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah me too_

_Storm99: night night princess_

_Storm99: don’t let the bedbugs bite xx_

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654 has left the chat_

 

_________________

 

Okay, what the fuck. What the fuck. Loki keeps staring at his phone as if it had sprouted fluorescent tentacles. He doesn’t know how he feels. He doesn’t want to know. Because it’s not true that this whole pep-talky fuckery didn’t sound like Thor. It _did_ sound like Thor, but Thor years ago, when they still told each other things. When Loki would go to him with dry snot crusted around his nose because two kids had shoved him in the playground and made him fall into a puddle of mud, and everyone had laughed. When they called him names which Loki had to ask what they meant, but knew they were meant to hurt, and did hurt. When the one friend he had in school turned on him because other kids in class had been saying things about Loki and now he was a social outcast, so his friend dumped him just like that, without a thought, like Loki was nothing, not worth the effort. He would go to Thor crying, knowing his brother would hug him and kiss him, and keep repeating gently that those kids were all stupid, and that they were only jealous, and that one day soon the same things they mocked him for would make Loki the coolest kid in school and everyone would want to be like him, and be his friend.

“You think so?” little Loki would say.

“I know so,” Thor would say. And then hold him tight, tight, tighter.

“You’re choking me!” Loki would protest, trying to push him away, although he had no chance.

And Thor would start tickling him or something. He’d never send him away until he had made Loki laugh.

That was years ago. _Ages_ ago. Loki thought Thor had changed. No, he hasn’t. He hasn’t stopped being nice. He just stopped being nice to _Loki_. It feels… Dammit, it hurts so bad.

 

He reads the chat all over again. Mission failed. The chat proves that Thor chats to girls online, sure. It also proves that he doesn’t send them dick pics at ‘hello’, that he actually likes to ‘get to know them’ first, even when a girl basically comes at him with her pants down, and that he’s actually kind of a sweetheart, armed with words of solace and wisdom to soothe the troubles of a suffering, confused young soul. Hardly what Loki was hoping for.

He’ll have to do it again. He’ll have to do better.

 

 

In bed that night, Loki struggles to sleep. He starts thinking ways to lure his brother sooner rather than later into the amateur smut phase of the relationship, but soon he’s simply thinking of their chat. All the things he told Thor today, things he never wanted to tell a living soul. And Thor didn’t mock him, didn’t tease him. He didn’t call him a reject and a loser. He was kind and patient and supportive. To a fucking stranger on the internet. Why can’t he be like that with Loki.

And yet. _There’s nothing wrong with you_ —he hears the line in Thor’s voice. And as angry as Loki still is, those words? It’s like a weight has been lifted.

It’s all very fucking weird. And they haven’t even taken their virtual pants off yet. Man, vengeance isn’t for the weak, let me tell you that.

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki tries to stick to the plan. But he's had such a shit day, poor boo.

 

 

During break next day, Loki watches Thor in the cafeteria being a heart-eyed slobber with Jane, teasing her and smooching her and tickling her, the picture of the perfect lover-boy. Two-faced bastard. What he’s doing to Jane is appalling, but what he’s doing to those girls online? It’s not enough for him to jerk off to their nudes, he also needs to sweet-talk them and act all charming and sweet and gentlemanly, and make them feel… special. Respected. Like they matter. Are there no fucking limits to his villainy? So Loki’s going to unmask that asshole and make him suffer. For Jane, and for Sorrow, and all the other Sorrows he may have strung along.

 

He’s distracted in class. Well, he gets bored, so his mind wanders. Survival strategy. He's only been listening with half an ear to Jared's answer to Ms. Woods’ question about modern and ancient myths, and his eyes are rolling so far back, Loki is seeing the inside of his own skull. The vagueness, the lame, fallacious analogies, the second-grade level of the reasoning. It’s not just that he's stupid, stupid Loki can put up with (if one wants to live to see college); what really, really gets to him, is how fucking pompous Jared is, how self-important. He thinks he can just drop words like “oneiric” and “primeval” and “cosmogony”, and everybody else will sit quietly, intimidated, and applaud whatever half-assed stupid diatribe spews out of his mouth. It’s offensive to anyone with half a brain that they are forced to sit in silence through this steaming pile of babble.

“Do we agree?” prompts Ms. Woods, pointedly making no comment of her own.

Oh, Loki, don’t. You will only make more trouble for yourself. Sit this one out. You’ll gain nothing from it.

But… Jared laughs at Loki with Brad and Jason and Cullen (god where do they get those fucking names from), make up shit about him and make it run around the school. He’s one of Loki’s main sources of pain in this place. Only today, before Ms. Woods arrived, they were laughing at him and calling him names. Apparently, Loki wearing black shirts with black jeans is hilarious to people now, for some reason.

So you know what…? No, Ms. Woods, we don’t agree. Let me elaborate…

He raises his hand.

"Yes, Loki?"

“Well, actually, as Karl Kerényi argued in his theories on the Greek gods as archetypes…”

He is eloquent and clear minded, his arguments rest on solid, well-informed foundations, his diction is clear, his exposition confident and flowing, and if he can say so himself, he has a very nice voice. It doesn’t hurt that he can actually use “oneiric” in a sentence that actually makes sense. In summation, he minces Jared. He tears him to pieces. 

Ms. Woods grins vaguely, delighted. The group of girls from uptown that always stick together are all giggling to each other and batting their eyelashes at Loki. And Jared and his gang of assholes are glaring daggers aimed at the back of Loki’s neck. He can feel them there. For a moment, he’s riding so high on victory, he forgets about the backlash to come.

 

 

When he sees a couple of groups of people hanging around his locker later that day, making time and throwing him looks and sniggering, he doesn’t need telling what this is about. He looks at his locker warily, but there’s no escaping it. He needs the stuff inside. Shit.

He puts on a blank mask, and tries to seem unbothered. Yes, it’s been forced open, the lock is fucked. He tries to prepare for whatever he will find in there.

A flash of white, he flinches. What the fuck…? A pad. Shit, it’s a _used_ pad.

Snickers and whistles burst from the people around. Loki clenches his jaw, tries to calm his breathing.

There is no way he’ll get at his things without touching it. The nearest bin is miles away. Shit. SHIT! 

Don’t fucking cry, you idiot, don’t you dare. You must not show one fucking blink of emotion, of any kind. No reaction. With studied nonchalance, he picks up the pad, pinching one clean corner. He makes it dainty, he makes it theatrical, he makes it cute. He gathers his books single-handed and walks through the small crowd, ignoring their words and their sounds and their taunting. He walks and walks and walks, it feels like a mile, until the next trash can. He’s tried to be as smooth as a cat on a fence through the entire ordeal, head high, bored expression, relaxed gait, no eye contact.

He manages not to cry on the bus on the way home, but only just.

 

 

Thor gets home some time after Loki. From his room, he hears him clanking and banging in the kitchen, stomping up the stairs, then pissing loudly (he always leaves the door open when mum’s not in, the fucking gorilla) and leave without flushing (such a caveman oh my god). He mumbles “hey” as he walks past Loki’s door. Then he gets into his room, and a few seconds later, Loki’s phone vibrates.

 

_Storm99: hey princess_

 

Loki reads the message with the taste of cold bile in his mouth.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: hey_

_Storm99: nice to see u_

_Storm99: had a good day?_

 

He scoffs.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: the usual_

_Storm99: thought about u today_

 

Loki scoffs some more. The fucking nerve. Like there was any time left for Thor to remember about a silly little girl he’s just met on the internet, in between being the center of the known universe in the cafeteria with his stupid teammates, making an offensive amount of noise and graciously taking the worship of every passer-by, and groping Jane against the wall behind the library. Why does he have to say these things? Why does he have to pretend that Sorrow matters?

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: really_

_Storm99: yeah_

_Storm99: i really enjoyed talking 2 u_

 

Loki huffs like an angry bull. Honestly, Thor, have you no fucking shame?

Ok, dude, get over yourself. Righteous indignation will get you nowhere. You’re supposed to fucking sweet-talk him into getting down and dirty enough with Sorrow to horrify Jane. You have to put on your Miss Honeytrap hat or this won’t work.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i thought about u 2_

_Storm99: (#^_^#) <3 _

 

(Loki rolls his eyes at the silly emojis. -Don’t get sidetracked.)

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: made me so wet_

_Storm99: lol_

_Storm99: u don’t fuck about_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: no_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u’r so hot and so sweet_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: makes me so horny thinking of u_

 

Loki wrinkles his nose writing these things, just in case some spiritual presence in the room with him might think he’s enjoying this.

 

_Storm99: princess_

_Storm99: u don’t have to talk like that_

_Storm99: u don’t have to say these things_

_Storm99: u don’t have to impress me remember_

_Storm99: take it easy_

 

Condescending asshole.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: how do u want me 2 talk_

_Storm99: how about be yourself?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: not sure how 2 do that_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: not sure u would like it_

 

(Well done, Sorrow, self-loathing is such a turn-on.)

 

_Storm99: i’m sure i will_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: how was your day?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u don’t want to hear about my day_

_Storm99: why would i ask if i didn’t?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: why_

_Storm99: i want 2 get 2 know u better_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: why_

_Storm99: because i like u_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u know nothing about me_

_Storm99: but i’d like 2_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: u in a bad mood princess?_

  

Loki huffs, he rubs his eyes hard. Bad mood? He’s fucking miserable. He can’t put it behind him, can't get over himself. Hard to be all chatty and sexy and bubbly like that, goddammit.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: shit day_

_Storm99: want 2 tell me about it?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: not really_

_Storm99: ok not going 2 push u_

_Storm99: but i’m listening if u need to talk_

 

Loki’s gritting his teeth, toying with his nails until he breaks one.

He tells himself he needs to say something.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: these assholes at school_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: left a used pad in my locker_

_Storm99: oh shit princess that’s awful_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m used to it_

_Storm99: i’m sorry about that_

_Storm99: people can b so fucking mean and horrible_

_Storm99: why do they do this shit? what do they get from it? i don’t get it_

_Storm99: how are u feeling now? U very upset about it?_

 

When was the last time Thor asked him that? And when was the last time Loki answered to such a question sincerely?

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

  _One_for_Sorrow5654: idk_

 

Loki sighs out loud in his empty room. And he realises that he doesn’t feel so tight now, so close to tears and screams of rage.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i'm a bit better now_

_Storm99: keeping these things 2 urself can't feel good 4 u_

_Storm99: i'm happy 2 listen honestly_

_Storm99: if it helps_

 

Loki sits back against the headboard of his bed. He scoffs at the ridiculousness of the situation. He's had to create himself a fictional girl persona to manage to find a friendly ear for his woes. The levels of pathetic and inept he is achieving are beyond the fucking charts. He's totally leaving his useless brain to science.

 

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: thank u_

_Storm99: ^_^_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u know, i may have asked for it_

_Storm99: princess don’t say that_

_Storm99: what could u have possibly done 2 deserve it_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: didn’t say i deserved it_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but i know these guys i know how they are_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i had a choice between letting something go or making it escalate_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i pushed them_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: even though i knew there would b consequences bc there always are_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: so it’s my fault i should know better_

_Storm99: what did u do_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: publicly humiliated their intelligences, such as they are, in class_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: they were taking the piss out of me so i pulverised them_

_Storm99: why were they taking the piss?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: they just don’t like me much_

_Storm99: why_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m a smart-ass_

_Storm99: lol_

_Storm99: how does that make any of this ur fault?_

_Storm99: trick question: it doesn’t_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u mean rhetorical question_

_Storm99: XD smart-ass_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: see?_

_Storm99: LOL_

_Storm99: still_

_Storm99: so u’r clever, so what_

_Storm99: believe me having a good brain is totally an asset_

_Storm99: the moment u graduate from high school anyway_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: ok that was funny_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: in a tragic (for me) sort of way_

_Storm99: u’r funny_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

 

Loki blinks quickly. He just. Thor doesn’t say nice things to him anymore.

 

_Storm99: personally i love brains in people_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: in girls too?_

_Storm99: in girls specially_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: well how lucky for me_

_Storm99: did u tell anyone at school about what those assholes did?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: no point_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it’s not going to stop them_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’d rather just ignore them_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and count the days until i can get the hell out of this shithole town_

_Storm99: oh princess_

_Storm99: it must be so hard. sorry u have to go through this_

_Storm99: i wish i could help you_

 

Loki stares at the words on the screen in baffled silence.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u are_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: helping_

_Storm99: i’m glad_

_Storm99: anything else i can do?_

 

Ooooh, we’re getting somewhere! Fucking finally! But let’s be subtle about it, he reacts with a forceful retreat when you’re too direct.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i wish u were here now_

_Storm99: i wish that 2_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: if u were here_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what would u do_

_Storm99: i’d give you a big hug_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what else_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: we could watch a film_

_Storm99: i got a few that always make me feel better_

_Storm99: do u like movies?_

 

Loki holds back a roar. Fucking hell!

Deep fucking breaths. Patience. Focus.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah_

_Storm99: tell me one_

_Storm99: a film u can always watch. A film you always go to to feel better_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

 

Loki rubs his temples. He can't fucking believe this.

Keep him talking.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: star wars. grease. the goonies._

_Storm99: omg i love goonies_

 

(I know, doofus. You even put it in your goddamn profile.)

 

_Storm99: u’r so cool_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: am i_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: r u going 2 give me the old “girls don’t usually like this kind of film” shite_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: bc that’s just not true_

_Storm99: lol_

_Storm99: no no i know it’s not true_

_Storm99: i personally know several girls who love it besides u_

_Storm99: just glad u like it 2_

 

Excellent. Great. Keep him chatting...

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what’s ur favourite thing about it_

_Storm99: when i was little i loved the swearing_

_Storm99: and the cheerleader_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: Andy_

_Storm99: yes Andy_

_Storm99: when she kisses mickey in the cave thinking it's the other guy_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: the braces_

_Storm99: lol yeah_

_Storm99: i guess i identified with mickey_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: me too_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: tho i’ve been told i’m more like a mix of Mouth and Data_

_Storm99: lol how lovely_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah been called worse_

_Storm99: lol u’r funny_

 

Again. The warmth, the flutter inside.

Shit, Loki, you're _pathetic_. Drinking this shit up, even though it's not even about you.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: so that’s when u were little_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what about now_

_Storm99: well i love everything but what always gets me_

_Storm99: is mickey and his brother_

 

Hm? Go on?

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: Bran_

_Storm99: yeah_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what about them_

_Storm99: they’re always fighting and bickering and being assholes 2 each other and getting on each other’s tits_

_Storm99: but they love each other so much_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: makes me think of me and my kid bro_

 

Ok.

Ok. What?

What. The fuck just. Did Thor just sort of say that. That he loves him.

When did Thor last…? Has Thor ever…? Shit, Loki does not remember Thor ever saying the words Love relating to little old him. I mean, it may have been implied, but...

...He doesn’t remember the last time Thor hugged him, or spoke more than a few sentences to him, or treated him as if Loki was not a thing he’d found stuck in his shoe.

Not that Loki remembers the last time he was civilised with Thor. This is a contest to see who’s the biggest asshole, so Loki practices pre-emptive assholery as a matter of course, because the best defence is a good attack and all that.

...The two brothers. They totally get to Loki too. He gets a stupid fucking lump in his throat right now, thinking of that scene when Mickey is miserable and his big bro offers him a hug, and they embrace passionately, almost like lovers, Bran’s big hands in Mickey’s hair, hugging tightly, so much love. Big bro is a jock too, forever lifting weights and shit, like a certain someone Loki knows. Little Mickey clings onto him with all his weight and all his might, a stumpy handful of need, throwing himself at his big brother in full faith that he’ll find comfort and support in his arms, in spite of all the things they’ve called each other just a few minutes ago.

And then big bro orders Mickey to get his ass back in the house, because Mickey is a sickly boy too. Fuck, Loki’s choking now.

 

_Storm99: princess?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: sorry_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: same_

_Storm99: ?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i have an older sis_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: we used to be very close_

_Storm99: what happened?_

 

Good question.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: nothing_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: high school happened_

_Storm99: right_

 

What _did_ happen? Between Thor and him? Why the fuck are they always fighting? Why do they never talk or spend time together anymore? Why does Thor hate him? Or makes it seem like he does?

…Well, fuck. Loki, you derp, this is like… like reading Thor’s diary, if he kept one. Right? You can just… fucking ask!

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what happened with ur little bro?_

_Storm99: idk_

_Storm99: he’s shut himself up in his own world more and more_

_Storm99: he’s always in a bad mood_

_Storm99: i don’t get him_

_Storm99: i used to but now_

_Storm99: i have no idea what he’s thinking ever_

_Storm99: seems like i can’t do anything right with him_

_Storm99: it’s like he hates me_

_Storm99: can’t remember last time we really talked_

_Storm99: or had fun together_

_Storm99: we used to be best friends_

_Storm99: i miss him_

 

The growing indignation that was building up inside Loki has suddenly dissolved with those three words. His throat knots.

He reads that last line over and over. He types now with shaky hands.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i miss my sis too_

 

His eyes are welling.

 

_Storm99: what happened? in high school_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: hell if i know_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it’s like she wanted 2 leave me behind_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: like i embarrassed her or something_

_Storm99: i’m sure that’s not true_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: then why is she like this_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: she treats me like a leper_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: at school she ignores me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: like she wants people 2 forget we’re related or something_

 

He sniffs.

 

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: have u tried telling her any of this?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: she wouldn’t listen_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: she’d laugh at me_

_Storm99: i’m sure she wouldn’t_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i’m sure she would_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i wish i knew what the hell did i do 2 make her hate me_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: don’t say that_

_Storm99: she loves u i’m sure_

_Storm99: no matter what_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: doesn’t feel like it_

_Storm99: that’s sad_

 

Well, Thor sure doesn't look sad these days.

 

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: i’m sure it’s got nothing 2 do with u_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: no? what else is there?_

_Storm99: maybe she thinks u’r old enough 2 fend 4 urself_

_Storm99: that u two can’t always b glued at the hip_

_Storm99: maybe she’s fed up of always being made to be responsible 4 someone else_

_Storm99: and she just wants to be selfish for a while and think of herself first_

_Storm99: maybe she wanted 2 not be anybody’s big sis for a while_

_Storm99: sometimes it can be hard_

 

Loki's eyes are glued to the screen.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: is that what happened to u with ur bro_

_Storm99: something like that i guess_

_Storm99:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: wanna tell me about it?_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

 

(Come on come on come on...)

 

_Storm99: he used 2 be a sick kid_

_Storm99: he had leukaemia when he was little_

_Storm99: he got over it he’s ok now_

_Storm99: but for years everybody was_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: they were all over him all the time_

_Storm99: fawning over him coddling him_

_Storm99: i mean he had to be in hospital for months and months and he couldn't get out of the room and the treatment was tough and he had a really bad time_

_Storm99: he was doing so so poorly_

_Storm99: like, he could have died_

_Storm99: but years after that people still_

_Storm99: they wrapped him in cottonwool and spoiled him rotten_

_Storm99: let him get away with so much_

_Storm99: and they expected me to be the grown up_

_Storm99: to be responsible and look after him and all_

_Storm99: i was 10_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: am i boring you_

 

Loki hasn’t blinked in a while. It’s likely that he hasn’t drawn breath.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: No of course not go on_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u were saying about being made to be responsible for him_

_Storm99: yeah_

_Storm99: and like they expected me to be perfect too don’t make any trouble never put a foot wrong_

_Storm99: “help your mom and dad they’r having such a hard time with ur little brother don’t make it harder”_

_Storm99: they cut me no slack at all_

_Storm99: i think my parents still see him as a hothouse flower_

_Storm99: u know like he was still a little boy who can't control his temper or what he says_

_Storm99: he's ur age_

_Storm99: it's always be patient with your brother be patient_

_Storm99: i just_

_Storm99: don’t get me wrong i love him to pieces_

_Storm99: when he was sick_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: shit i used to think if he goes i’m going right behind him i won’t manage_

_Storm99: but it’s like he’s always resented me_

_Storm99: for all the things i could do and he couldn’t, or wasn't allowed to do, bc he was sick_

_Storm99: all those months when he couldn’t get out of the house and all the months it took for him to recover_

_Storm99: and i get it i really do, it must have been so hard_

_Storm99: he was little he didn’t understand_

_Storm99: why did he have to be sick when all the other kids weren’t why couldn’t he do what I did_

_Storm99: it was so unfair right, i get it_

_Storm99: but to this day when i am better at something it’s like_

_Storm99: like it’s personal, something i am doing TO him_

_Storm99: to spite him or something to rub his nose in it_

_Storm99: and our parents still expect me to look after him in school_

_Storm99: and a lot of the time i wouldn’t mind_

_Storm99: except it’s like he hates it and hates me for it_

_Storm99: not a word of thanks no appreciation_

_Storm99: and he takes my protection but won’t help himself_

_Storm99: he doesn't try to make friends he makes trouble for himself_

_Storm99: i guess he’s jealous of me_

_Storm99: bc i’m kinda popular and he’s not_

_Storm99: i don’t get why_

_Storm99: i think he could be popular if he wanted_

_Storm99: hell he could have all the girls in school with a flick of his fingers_

_Storm99: he’s super brainy and sophisticated and he’s very good looking and all_

_Storm99: and yeah he’s a smarty-pants and a know-it-all but he’s also very funny_

 

(Loki’s eyes like plates.)

 

_Storm99: anyway he could be king in that place but he drives everyone away_

_Storm99: it’s like he doesn’t want people to like him_

_Storm99:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: princess?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: maybe he’s found out that people he thought were his friends were making fun of him behind his back_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: or he's been pranked by people who made him believe they liked him_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: or it turns out they just used him to get closer to you_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and now he doesn’t trust anyone_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and maybe he just feels nobody wants to know him really_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: because whenever he opens up a bit he gets mocked_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and called a geek or a smart-ass or that he's up his own ass or_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: maybe he feels he has nothing in common with anyone his own age_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and older people just see him as a pest trying too hard who should learn his place_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: maybe boys don’t like to be around him bc_

 

Braking screech. Hold your fucking horses, idiot, danger area. Moving on.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: maybe he’s so self-conscious_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: any social interaction for him is like_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: like being naked on a fucking stage with only a towel to cover himself_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and people watching and criticising every word and every move_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: ready to pelt him with rotten eggs_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: maybe he just wants to be left alone_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and people just don’t let him_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: they won’t let him be and_

 

Loki’s can’t see the screen or the keys anymore. He’s crying.

 

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: is that how u feel princess_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: well i don’t know how 2 help him_

_Storm99: honestly what can i do_

_Storm99: he doesn’t talk to me except to snarl at me and_

_Storm99: i mean i’m no saint_

_Storm99: but even when i try to be nicer it doesn’t really change anything_

_Storm99: and he’s always kept to himself and he’s always been hard to figure out but now_

_Storm99: now it’s like_

_Storm99: like i don’t even know who he is anymore_

_Storm99: makes me so sad_

_Storm99: but what can i do?_

_Storm99: i thought if i left him to it he’d get out there and make friends_

_Storm99: he’s always hanging around mine_

_Storm99: and it’s not like it really bothers me but_

_Storm99: idk_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: shit am i not allowed to have one thing of my own? do i have to share that with him too?_

_Storm99: and he pisses me off so much_

_Storm99: when i feel he resents me_

_Storm99: that he resents that i’m doing well_

_Storm99: like he wants to see me suffer 2_

_Storm99: idk does he want me to be miserable so that we can b miserable together?_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: princess u there?_

_Storm99: this got 2 heavy right? sorry_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it’s ok_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but i need 2 go now bye_

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654 has left the chat_

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "For a moment, he thinks of calling it off. Create a new profile, choose the pic of a girl with humongous tits, and invent a whole new identity his brother won’t be so scrupulous with.
> 
> But he knows how to play this. He can play this. And he’s come this far. It’s almost a matter of pride at this point. He wants to get his way."
> 
>  
> 
> Loki pushes things, and this mess reaches new levels of fucked up.

 

“Morning,” says Thor when he gets to the kitchen for breakfast. Loki looks up from his cereal with a suspicious frown.

“Okay, kiddo?” says Thor when he catches him staring.

Loki blinks, baffled. He would usually get a “what the fuck are you looking at.” This is obviously the twilight zone.

“You okay?” asks Thor again as they get in the car.

“Got a headache,” mumbles Loki. “Didn’t sleep well.”

And Thor actually goes and _turns the music off_. Loki sits there quietly for two minutes, reeling first, then trying to bring himself to… Hell, it seems his gratitude-expressing mechanism is rusty as fuck when it comes to his brother, and every second that passes, he feels more and more stupid.

“Thanks,” he says at last, just a mutter.

“S’okay,” mutters his brother in reply. But he’s not finished yet: “I think Jane carries painkillers. I can ask when we pick her up.”

Loki turns to look at Thor this time. This has been their most civilised interaction in months.

“I’m alright,” he says. “I already took something. Uh, thanks anyway.”

“No problem.”

They’re both very quiet on the way to school, even after the girls get in. They fill the air talking about this science fair; Jane is trying to enlist Darcy to come with her, or something.

Meanwhile, Thor is miles away. So is Loki. He hasn’t slept a wink, thinking about last night’s chat, feeling angry at turns, ashamed and guilty at others, so fucking sad over it all. He was up at dawn re-reading the chat, things Thor had said like a slap in his face, shaking him, others like a punch in the gut, hitting him deep, robbing him of air.

He had not _thought_ . He had never tried to _see_.

As a child, pretty much as far back as he could remember, leukemia had been Loki’s reality. His memories from before he was ill are very unclear and vague, and he doesn’t trust them. He remembers Thor, though. Running after Thor. Asking where Thor was. He remembers Thor being asked to his friends’ places for playdates and birthday parties all the time, and he remembers being told he was too little to go with him. He remembers being called a pest and a pain in the ass. He remembers being told he was too slow, too short, too annoying. He remembers wanting to be like Thor. He remembers feeling invisible. He remembers always being pushed to one side, hidden in the shadows.

He knows he was also invited to his own classmates’ birthday parties (at that time, it’s politics, isn’t it? Parents wanting to court other parents; what the kids want, who they want or not at their party, doesn’t really count), he knows he had buddies of his own; he has seen photos. He doesn’t really remember any of that.

He remembers Thor — everything is always about Thor. Whether Thor was there or he wasn’t. He trusted Thor, he loved Thor, he wanted to be with Thor. And he wanted Thor all to himself. He didn’t want anyone else, so why did Thor want other people? Why wasn’t Loki enough?

And then, he remembers the hospital. He remembers when for a long while, only his mum was allowed to visit, wearing a mask. The rest were doctors and nurses Loki never really felt at ease with. He didn’t even know their faces. He had to tell them apart by their eyes or their voice. And he was never all that sure he got it right; names were hard.

He remembers the exhaustion, the boredom, the aches and pains, the sickliness, and the needles. At best, that whole time in his life is like one long, colourless, mind-numbing, Sunday afternoon. At worst…

Then they sent him home. He remembers the beanies and the kerchiefs he was forever getting as presents to cover his bald head. Trying to be nice when he got them, even when Auntie Ida gave him one with fucking Mickey Mouse and another one with rubber duckies, and expected him to try them on and then smile for the pictures. And then he was shown the fucking pictures, and it’s the first time he had seen himself since before he was ill. From then on, he would try to hide whenever he got visitors. He sometimes cried when they made him say hello anyhow. He remembers his parents making excuses for him. He remembers getting the talk afterwards. Mum asking him what was the problem. He remembers not wanting to tell. Couldn’t she just figure it out for herself? Just… fucking look at him! He didn’t have any fucking eyebrows!

He remembers being surrounded with new toys, and running to his mum to show her the really, really cool remote control pterosaur that could actually fly, and finding her in a corner crying with her sister Frieda soothing her and telling her something like “these are only preliminary results; statistically, the chance of relapse…” And then mum spotted him and wiped off her tears and tried to change her face, and a few days later Loki was back in hospital.

And he didn’t want to make his mum sad, he really didn’t. He had tried to get better, he had tried to be good, he had tried to be strong and brave as they had told him, but he was so tired all the time, he just hadn’t been strong enough. Why couldn’t he be strong enough. He was trying so hard. It wasn’t his fault! —But deep inside he knew that it _was_ his fault; he had not been good enough, he had not tried hard enough; so many times he didn’t finish his food, even though he was told he needed to try and make himself eat to get stronger, and sometimes when they gave him the orange medicine he didn’t want it and made a big fuss about it, and everyone was upset, and when they tucked him in at night he would stay awake reading even though he knew he needed to rest, but he’d been half dozing all day, bored to death, even when mum had told him he’d better not sleep in the afternoon and try the gentle exercises he’d been recommended, but he just couldn’t be bothered, they made him feel stupid, and then at night he wasn’t sleepy, and… And now mum was crying again and talking to him like he was a baby, and hugging him all the time, and his dad looked so grave and serious, and Thor…

Yeah, he remembers Thor sulking in the corner. He remembers Thor being naughty, being contrary, being grumpy. He remembers Thor getting in a huff and being told off and sent up to his room without his supper. He remembers dad telling Thor, “I’m disappointed in you, son.”

He also remembers Thor sitting in a corner and looking sour when relatives came to visit. Some would bring a little present for Thor too, but many didn’t. And Loki of course would get the coolest, biggest toys. And he remembers the sick satisfaction that gave him. But he also remembers how it felt when Thor ran out of the house as soon as he could to be with his friends. Loki would see them on their bicycles whooshing down the street. He’d watch them on the lawn playing ball. He’d watch them hanging out in the sun from his bedroom. Loki had not left the house in months. To him, it felt like years.

And most poignant of all, he remembers hearing mum call Thor in, and then Thor moaning “oh mum, do I have to?”, and then there’d be stern, hushed words, and then footsteps up the stairs, and Thor would offer to play with him on the game console. And he remembers being grumpy about it, but not proud. Yes, he wanted to play with Thor, even when he knew Thor didn’t want to. He was little. He thought a win was a win, and getting Thor to play with him was exactly that. He got his own way, he won. It makes him fucking sick with anger when he thinks about it now. He wishes he had kicked him out of the room screaming. (...No, he doesn’t.)

He remembers the long summers at Auntie Ida’s farm, away from Thor’s friends, away from any other kids, just Thor and him and nobody else, making up their own games, going on adventures in the fields, getting stung by nettles, rolling in the mud, laughing, skinny dipping in the stream, staying out until the fireflies came out, and whispering and muttering together in their twin beds, side by side, until silly late. They still bickered and pranked each other, but there was no adult to make them kiss and make up (Auntie Ida really wasn’t up to the task), so they would sort it out between themselves. Turns out, they fought a lot less, they negotiated better, they just… got along so well. It was the best time in Loki’s life.

They hadn’t been to the farm since Auntie Ida died, the year before Thor went to high school. Not that Thor would want to be cooped up there with Loki all summer long. There were no girls, right? God, Loki knew it was pretty fucking ridiculous to hate his brother’s girlfriends so much, but… Fucking hell, he wasn’t good at sharing.

It doesn’t matter anymore. Those were the good times, but they’ll never return. Being realistic, all that’s left between Thor and him is a few more months of cold war at best, open war at worst, and then they’ll go their separate ways. Thor will leave for college, then Loki, and then they’ll only see each other for Christmas or funerals or whatever. And that’s it. That’s all.

One of those summers on the farm, if someone had told them they would come to this, they would never have believed it. At the farm, they had felt like two halves of the same thing on those nights, almost like the last two humans left on earth, like the world was their own and nothing could ever come between them. Or that’s how Loki felt. Perhaps Thor didn’t feel the same way. He was always eager to be with other people, to make friends, to meet girls. Perhaps Loki had never been enough anyway. Perhaps Thor was just making the best of what he got; he’s good at that, isn't he? (Great. Just when Loki thought he couldn’t feel lonelier and more miserable.)

 

He crosses paths with Thor twice in the hallway. Thor nods the first time, winks at him the second. Loki returns the nod, and hates how fucking nice it feels.

In the cafeteria at lunchtime, Thor beckons him. Wary, Loki goes.

“Sit down, smurf.”

“Uh?”

“Come on.” Thor even moves his butt on the bench to make room for him.

“You sure I’m not disturbing you?” says Loki tightly, snarky.

Thor smiles that serene, untroubled Buddha smile of his. Loki doesn’t get it very often anymore.

“‘Course not, dickwad. Sit down.”

It takes Loki a minute to stand down from his permanent battle stance, his first impulse of biting and spitting, his mistrust whenever somebody is nice to him in this place. Finally, he puts his tray down, then his butt, and there’s a crack in Thor’s smarmy casualness, and Loki thinks he sees some real warmth coming through. And fuck, Loki has no idea what to do with that, except wanting to roll in it. Man, he’s so fucking starved, isn’t he? It’s pathetic.

The group around them doesn’t make a big fuss. Sif, Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun, they’re from the neighbourhood, they’ve known the brothers their whole lives. Jane and Darcy, and her boy Ian, are new acquisitions. And Thor is the center of it all, of course. Loki has wondered many times if Sif and the other three would even be friends were it not for Thor binding them together. (The football team doesn’t count. Rogers, Wilson, Barnes, and the rest, they don’t really mix with Thor’s school friends. Or Stark, Thor’s brainiac occasional study buddy. Because Thor is a brainiac too, he just doesn’t let on.)

When Jane arrives, Thor makes her sit on his lap, to a couple of whoops and whistles from the rest of the table. Not from Sif. Sif said “hey” when Jane arrived and now she’s checking her phone, pointedly not looking at the lovebirds smooching. They had a thing, Sif and Thor, for a whole summer. Then Thor, the slut that he is, said he needed “some space” (sixteen-year-old Thor’s literal words, shitting you not; he told Loki himself) and that was that. He went on his merry slutty way to harvest hearts and then break them. Sif… Not so much.

“You’re not gonna finish this?” asks Thor, when Loki is putting down his cutlery. He’s eaten about half his lunch.

“Not hungry,” says Loki.

“Come on, eat up. You’re growing,” Thor replies.

“Leave him alone, mum,” says Fandral.

“Hey, he’s very skinny,” says Thor.

“It’s a good look on him,” says Fandral, grinning wickedly. Forever flirting in all directions, because the guy just doesn’t give a fuck.

“Hey,” warns Thor, nevertheless.

Loki feels too much attention aimed at him.

“Gotta go.”

“Need a ride later?” offers his brother.

Loki just...  _Enough_.

“I need to go to the library after class,” he says, gritting teeth. “I’ll catch the bus.” (As I always fucking do. As I’ve been doing for almost two fucking years. I don’t fucking need you to babysit me, brother, just because suddenly you feel a bit guilty that you’ve been treating me worse than someone you’ve never even met before this entire time.)

“Ok. Text me if you change your mind, yeah?”

Loki stomps away. He _did_ need to go to the library, but he doesn’t. He stays out in the street, sulking, thinking. He goes over last night’s chat again. Brilliant idea, just what he needed to pull himself together. He reads, and huffs, and scoffs. So mom and dad see Loki as a little boy who can’t control his temper? His dad is forever letting Loki know just what a disappointment he is, how very childish and moody and irritating. Not feeling the leeway you mention there at all, brother. And he had realised Thor wasn’t crazy about Loki hanging with him and Sif and the rest. Loki uses them as a screen, to make it seem like he’s not alone. He had not realised it looked so… pathetic. And it’s not like Thor is sharing them. What is Loki taking from him? What?

Does he resent Thor? Does he want Thor to be miserable? He once fantasised about dying, to make Thor feel guilty. _You’ll miss me when I’m dead_ kind of thing.

However. When Loki was getting all that attention, Thor wasn’t getting any. It’s true that they must have left Thor to fend for himself a lot. Mum spent so much time in hospital, and their dad is not exactly warm. Mum tried to be everywhere, but if she was in the hospital with Loki, she couldn’t be with Thor whenever he needed her. ...Did he need her much, then? Because he was also little and he was also scared, because his kid brother might die?

Shit, Thor has the fucking nerve to resent  _him_ for things that are entirely outside of Loki’s control. For the fucking illness. For how people treated each of them. It’s… Shit, it’s understandable. Thor was a kid too. If he'd been in Thor's place... Yeah, probably. It would have felt like Loki had all the fucking luck. They never told Loki off for throwing a temper tantrum, and he was quite into those. Thor got yelled at and sent to his room and had gaming and TV privileges removed, he got stern talks, he was made to acknowledge the wrong of his behavior and apologize. They didn't make Loki finish his dinner. If Thor didn't eat his greens, he'd have them served again for breakfast. All those little things. To a ten-year-old, it must have felt so bitterly unfair. And even though we're talking about a life-threatening condition and a really uncomfortable medical treatment here, Thor might even have been jealous. ...Loki would probably have been jealous, right? Had it been him? So yeah, he can understand. But he does not want to understand. Why must he. Thor isn't ten anymore. He wasn't ten when they got to high school. And the leukaemia-free pass Loki used to get has long expired. Nobody gives him anything for free anymore. Nobody lets him get away with anything. He got over the fucking illness. Can't Thor get over it too? - _What can I do?_ , Thor wondered last night. Well how about stop blaming me for being sick? For taking up so much attention? For how the grownups treated me? I fucking needed you in there, asshole! So you’re tired of being my older brother? Well fuck you! I’m tired of you being my brother too!

...Damn. It hurts to think this kind of thing. Loki doesn’t mean it. Does he? Shit, sometimes...sometimes he does. Sometimes he hates Thor with a burning passion, the kind of hatred that makes you willing to ruin yourself to ruin someone else. But right now, Loki is just tired. And confused. He had no idea what he was signing up for when he came up with his plan to entrap Thor.

 

“Where were you?” asks his mother gently when he gets home.

“Library,” he answers.

“It’s a bit late, don’t you think?”

“Physics midterm is coming,” he mumbles.

She nods, and smiles sweetly. She trusts him. She trusts him not to make trouble. Loki could get anything past her if he wanted. He thinks he’s so clever. (Yeah, a genius. She knows you don’t have a fucking life, idiot.)

 

He toys with his food at dinner time, chases it around the plate. This time, Thor doesn’t tell him to eat up. He’s fidgety, gobbling down his meal in huge, hurried mouthfuls.

“Remember to chew every now and again, son,” grumbles their dad.

Thor finishes first, of course, way ahead of the rest of the family.

“Can I be excused?” he says eagerly.

Dad sighs. He’s really fixed on these family meals at the table together.

“Got homework,” hedges Thor.

“What have you been doing all afternoon then?” grumbles dad.

“Alright,” says mum, ignoring that, and ignoring Odin’s soft huff. “Off you go.”

She’s the boss in this house, and they’re all the better for it. Thor kisses mum and dashes upstairs. And sure enough, one minute later, Loki’s phone vibrates with a message warning.

He ignores it. He doesn't feel like playing fucking charades tonight. He'll make himself later, because he's disciplined, and determined, and perseverant if the goal is worthwhile and he's sufficiently motivated, but he's in no rush. He toys with his food for a bit longer. He knows he better get some more of it down, or they’re going to pester him to no end. He could get away with it (mum is nothing if not understanding), but he’d rather not do that tonight. So he chews and rolls the food around in his mouth and scatters it all over the plate until both his parents are finished. When they stand to clean up, so does he. He knows he’s not fooling either of them, and he can hear the huffs and sighs, but they’re fed up and tired too, they can't bring themselves to parent any more, and they let it go. Loki was fully counting on it. 

Loki goes upstairs, shuts his door, sits on the bed, and ceremoniously gets his phone out.

 

_Storm99: u there princess?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: hey_

_Storm99: hey <333 _

_Storm99: missed u 2day_

_Storm99: thought about u a lot_

_Storm99: what we talked about yesterday_

_Storm99: tried 2 be less of a dick 2 my bro_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: that’s nice_

_Storm99: not sure he even noticed_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m sure he did_

_Storm99: not much i can do is there_

_Storm99: i can try that’s all_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah_

_Storm99: anything wrong princess?_

_Storm99: can’t u talk?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

 

He throws his head back and stares at the ceiling. All the mess he’s been feeling all day resolves into this slimy emotion, this poisoned, sick triumph. He’s got his brother eating out of the palm of her hand, this creation of Loki’s, this fictional girl he’s put together and has cleverly been dishing out in just the right way.

...And that’s exactly what this fictional girl would believe as well, right? If she was real? She would look at the evidence -the smooth words, the enthusiasm, the eagerness, the I missed yous and I thought about yous- and think… Yeah, she'd get excited, right? She'd get her hopes up. She would believe this is something that it's not. Because she wouldn’t know about Jane.

And Sorrow said she was lonely. She’s obviously needy and desperate and vulnerable, and Thor just… He gives and gives and gives, and it feels fucking awesome, but what he's really giving you is a fucking rope to fucking hang yourself with. Like those summers in Auntie Ida's fucking farm. 

Loki clenches his jaw. Oh, brother. I am going to fucking _destroy_ you.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m just not sure what we’re doing here_

_Storm99: what u mean?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u here 2 make friends?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: don’t u already have friends?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u put a shirtless pic of urself on ur profile bc u wanted to make friends?_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

 

Yeah, that's it. Look yourself in the fucking mirror, Mr. 'I want to get to know you better', Mr. 'Let's talk a bit first', Mr. Mr. 'Thought about you today'. 

And now, let's fucking nail this.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i came here for a reason_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m here for sex_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: to experience it with somebody else_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i want to stop feeling so wrong_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: so i really don’t know what we’re doing_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

 

Hm. Oh shit. Too much? Have we lost him?

…No, we can salvage this. You can play him. You know him. Use it. (It stings to tone it down, but whatever it takes, right?)

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: sorry_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i just_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: don’t u like me?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: don’t u want this with me?_

_Storm99: it’s not that_

_Storm99:_

 

So what the fuck is it then. You whipped your dick out for the others, why not for Sorrow? (Loki scoffs, alone in his room. Man you’re pathetic. Your own fucking brother’s rejection of your fictional girl persona is stinging.)

 

_Storm99: princess u’re great_

_Storm99: u’r gorgeous and fun and cute and i love talking 2 u_

_Storm99: just bc a guy doesn’t grab ur pussy the moment u meet doesn’t mean u’r not attractive_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: don’t patronise me_

_Storm99: sorry i didn’t mean 2_

 

(Sigh. You really need to tone it down now.)

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: no i’m sorry i’m being a jerk_

_Storm99: another bad day?_

 

(Hell no, not this time. Don't change the fucking subject, Storm-boy.)

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u want me?_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: u’r gorgeous_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: don’t. Answer me_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: yes i want u_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: then why don’t u_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: why don’t i what_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: what do u want_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

 

Shit, it's... hard to type? For some reason? Not like he hasn't typed worse things on this chat before... 

It just... feels weird. He's been doing a lot of confessing and soul-searching through Sorrow's mask, hasn't he? Edges blurring. Identities blending. Hm.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i want u 2 get me off_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: can u do that_

_Storm99:_

 

A shudder of unrest. ( _Eew_.)

Come on, say what you have to. Nail his fucking ass.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i need it_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i want to_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i want 2 b with some1 and for it to feel easy and nice_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i want to feel normal_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: why do u think it would feel like that with me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: bc u’r nice_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i like u_

_Storm99: u attracted 2 me?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i trust u_

_Storm99: idk princess u’re so young_

_Storm99: i feel like a creep_

 

Oh, for fucks sakes.

For a moment, he thinks of calling it off. Create a new profile, choose the pic of a girl with humongous tits, and invent a whole new identity his brother won’t be so scrupulous with.

But he knows how to play this. He _can_ play this. And he’s come this far. It’s almost a matter of pride at this point. He wants to _get his way._

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u’r not a creep_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i’m not a baby_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i’m going to do this_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: with u or with someone else_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: would u rather i get it from some1 else_

_Storm99: that’s not nice princess_

_Storm99: pushing buttons like that_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: sorry_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i just don’t want u 2 feel u’r doing something u shouldn’t_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i know this place is full of creeps and sleazes and i was ready for that but i wasn’t ready 4 u_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m lucky i got u instead_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i really want this and i want it 2 b u_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: we’ll never meet anyway_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: so what’s the difference_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: pls_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

 

(Come on, come on, come on…)

 

_Storm99: but u gotta tell me if it bcomes 2 much_

_Storm99: i understand u don’t have experience and that this is hard 4 u_

_Storm99: and that’s alright that’s fine_

_Storm99: it’s supposed 2 feel nice ok_

_Storm99: so u gotta promise me right now_

_Storm99: if it doesn’t feel nice u’ll tell me_

_Storm99: and we’ll slow down_

_Storm99: i don’t want 2 say anything that doesn’t feel good 2 u ok_

_Storm99: so if it gets 2 much or feels wrong or u’r uncomfortable_

_Storm99: u’r going 2 tell me_

_Storm99: and we’ll figure it out_

_Storm99: i won’t b mad_

_Storm99: and i won’t stop talking 2 u_

_Storm99: yeah princess?_

 

Fuck. Wow. Okay. Triumph. Right? You did it. Score.

Uh. He’s feeling a bit sick now.

 

_Storm99: princess?_

 

Shit. Wake the fuck up.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: now what_

_Storm99: LOL_

_Storm99: allow me ;)_

_Storm99: what r u wearing_

 

Uh, right. (Bleurgh, the thing his belly just did.) How does this even work? (His pulse is pounding.)

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: pj_

_Storm99: lol_

_Storm99. is it cute?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: adorbs_

_Storm99: is it soft?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes_

_Storm99: u touching it?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: want me 2?_

_Storm99: yeah_

 

(Jesus.)

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: tell me where 2 put my hand_

_Storm99: hm_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what_

_Storm99: i liked that ;)_

 

Loki fidgets on his ass. Does that mean Thor…? (His fucking stomach.)

 

_Storm99: u know where i want u 2 put ur hand don’t u_

 

_(Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.)_

Loki swallows. He’s so fucking nervous. Why the hell is he so nervous.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i have a slight idea_

_Storm99: u wearing a bra?_

 

Uh. Would a girl be wearing a bra?

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: not to sleep doofus_

_Storm99: some girls do_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: in your broad experience_

_Storm99: ;)_

 

Enough with the fucking winky smileys or so help me…

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i don’t need 2. my tits are not so big_

_Storm99: they’re perfect_

 

Loki rolls his eyes.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: thank u very much_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

 

Go on then. We’ll never fucking get there otherwise.

Shit, this is hard. _It’s just words on a fucking screen, Loki._ Pull your stupid self together. You don't even have goddamn tits!

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i wish u could touch them_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i wish u were here now_

_Storm99: i wish i was there too_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what would u do rn_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: this would b ur first time right?_

 

Loki’s pulse manages to pump even faster.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yup_

_Storm99: then i’d take it real slow_

_Storm99: i’d be real gentle_

_Storm99: i’d kiss ur forehead ur eyes i’d hold ur hand_

_Storm99: how does that feel princess_

 

Like this is going to take forever, oh god.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: good. great._

_Storm99: where are u rn princess_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: in bed_

_Storm99: u lying down?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: sorta_

_Storm99: lie down close ur eyes pretend i’m there_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: how can i read the fucking phone then_

_Storm99: lol_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: okay okay_

_Storm99: pretend i’m there beside you_

_Storm99: i’m stroking your hair_

_Storm99: we could make out for a long long time_

_Storm99: i’d kiss ur lips ur neck ur ears_

_Storm99: ever had that done before?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah once_

_Storm99: the girl or the boy?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: boy_

_Storm99: did u like it?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it was intense_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: if it was someone i like I might_

_Storm99: like me?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: maybe_

_Storm99: u trust me?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes_

_Storm99: u know u can stop me at anytime_

_Storm99: the moment u feel queasy_

 

Queasy? Loki's fucking _shaking_.

Come on, now. You’re so close, so close.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m not queasy_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: don’t stop_

_Storm99: ok princess_

_Storm99: so i’d look after u so well_

_Storm99: until u were really worked over_

_Storm99: get u nice and ready for more_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: get me real wet?_

_Storm99: ;) ur panties would b soaked_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: not wearing any. pjs remember?_

_Storm99: hmmm hot_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and u’d be really hard_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: are u hard now?_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: yeah_

_Storm99: and getting there_

 

Fuck. …Really?

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u just saying that 2 make me feel good?_

_Storm99: no_

_Storm99: it’s very fucking hot_

_Storm99: ur first time bby_

 

Ah, the goddamn hot churn in Loki’s stomach. Is he going to be sick?

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what next_

_Storm99: can i touch u_

_Storm99: ur breasts_

_Storm99: through ur clothes first_

_Storm99: i’d lick them and suck them until i can see right through ur shirt_

_Storm99: then i’d take ur top off. if u’d let me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’d let u_

_Storm99: i’d love to see them and touch them now_

_Storm99: nipples so hard_

_Storm99: i’d b gentle_

_Storm99: princess u’r so beautiful_

_Storm99: touch urself now. touch ur tits_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: ok_

_Storm99: how does it feel_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

 

(He does it. He touches himself for a moment. Research.)

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: tickles_

_Storm99: remember how it felt when u had ur nipples sucked_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes_

_Storm99: i wish i was doing that now_

_Storm99: close ur eyes for a moment imagine i’m doing it 2 u_

 

Loki does _not_ close his eyes and he does _not_ try to imagine his brother sucking his fucking nipples, because he’s almost got this and he’s not about to fucking ruin it by being sick all over his fucking phone.

(…He does get a flash of the guy doing that at that party, whether he likes it or not. They’re between a pile of coats and jackets, and they guy's hard-on is pressing against Loki’s thigh, and Loki's getting hard too and he thinks, well, so that’s it then, that’s settled; I must be gay.)

 

_Storm99: how r u feeling bby_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: nervous?_

_Storm99: u turned on?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m ok_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: turned on_

_Storm99: r u wet?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes_

_Storm99: u just touched ur self?_

 

Uh.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes_

_Storm99: do u like doing it?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: who doesn’t_

_Storm99: how do u like it_

 

Shit. What do girls like?

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: idk, the usual_

_Storm99: u rub ur clit?_

 

Jesus fuck. He should have done some research (although the mere thought makes his stomach heave).

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah_

_Storm99: finger urself?_

 

Heh. Well, here’s something he can answer sincerely at last.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah_

_Storm99: do u like it?_

 

Why else would I fucking do it otherwise, moron?

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah_

_Storm99: hmm so hot_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: does it make u hard?_

_Storm99: fuck yeah_

_Storm99: i’m imagining u_

_Storm99: on ur bed_

_Storm99: touching urself_

_Storm99: with ur fingers inside u_

_Storm99: thinking of me_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: are u ok princess_

 

Jesus Joseph and Mary.

No, he’s not. Loki's very much fucking not okay. He imagined it too, what Thor just said, couldn't fucking help it, and now his pulse is thumping in his temples, his underbelly is rolling and tumbling, and he's beyond horrified; he's now reached a place where he can't even tell how he feels. His internal organs are doing all sorts of weird things, like somebody went and pressed all the buttons of a washing machine and all the programs are running at the same time. What an almighty mess. 

…It’s just words on a screen, Loki. Just fucking words on a screen. It's not fucking real, nothing is. Push on through. Finish this.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m just so turned on_

_Storm99: but ok? feeling good?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: don’t stop now_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: tell me more_

_Storm99: if i was with u now i’d like to go down on u_

_Storm99: would u like that?_

 

Loki folds over. There's been a stirring, a spike of something in a place he doesn’t want to feel anything right now. His heart rate is getting ridiculous. 

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes_

_Storm99: i’d be so gentle_

_Storm99: kiss ur thighs ur belly button_

_Storm99: spread ur legs for me bby_

 

 _Shit_. A throb.

Words. On. A. Fucking. Screen. It’s got nothing to do with… Nothing to do, okay? It’s not fucking real. It’s nothing, doesn’t mean anything.

Deep breaths.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes_

_Storm99: my tongue, i’d lick u slow, part ur lips_

_Storm99: can u feel my breath princess_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: it’s hot and heavy_

_Storm99: ur clit is hard_

_Storm99: i flick my tongue slowly, make it harder_

_Storm99: suck it gently_

_Storm99: would u let me finger u_

 

Loki’s breathing, shallow and short.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: fuck yes_

_Storm99: r u horny? u touching urself?_

 

Throat dry. Swallow. Hands firmly on the phone.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes_

_Storm99: i’d feel it with my tongue first_

 

Fuck.

 

_Storm99: then i’d feel u up, see how relaxed u are, while i lick u_

_Storm99: until u let me in_

_Storm99: i’d screw my finger slowly, still licking and sucking ur clit_

_Storm99: then fuck u real slow with my finger_

_Storm99: find the sweet spot inside_

 

Loki licks his lips, so dry.

 

_Storm99: and touch ur tits too, thumb ur nipple gently_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: how many hands do u have_

_Storm99: XD_

_Storm99: enough_

_Storm99: trust me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u do this a lot?_

_Storm99: XD as much as they let me_

_Storm99: i love going down on girls_

_Storm99: feels so good, it’s so hot seeing them like that_

_Storm99: i’d make u come like that_

_Storm99: make u come so hard_

_Storm99: with my finger and my mouth_

_Storm99: u touching urself princess?_

 

Touching himself? Loki even refuses to adjust the semi-boner he’s developed, even though it’s kinda squashed. He won’t fucking get near it. Like, ever again. _Ever_. Not with gloves, not with fucking tweezers. Just in case. (Besides, it could _not_ be a boner. It could be that the squashing is making it feel, you know. I mean, his stomach is acting weird, there's all sorts happening in that lower belly area. So better not fucking get near it, lest we find out it _was_  a boner after all).

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u want me to?_

_Storm99: i’d like 2 make u come_

 

No. He can’t even fucking write it down. Unthinkable. Just. No.

 

_Storm99: unless u don’t feel like it_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: idk_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i just_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: ur touching ur dick?_

_Storm99: yeah_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u do it_

_Storm99: do it?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: jerk off_

_Storm99: that what u want?_

 

Shit, Thor, can’t you just…? Goddammit, don’t make me say it.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: pls_

_Storm99: ok_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: do it_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: don’t say anything_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: just do it_

_Storm99: ok_

_Storm99: i'll think about u_

_Storm99:_

 

Shit. Thor’s just behind that wall, and he’s…? Loki tries to listen and not hear anything at the same time. Fucking gross, why is he still half-hard? Shit, he needs to be put in a fucking looney asylum. Like, he’ll fill in the application himself.

 

_Storm99: princess_

 

Loki’s stomach does a flip. It ends up the wrong way up, judging by how off it feels.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: hey_

_Storm99: u ok?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u?_

_Storm99: great_

 

Gulps.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: was it good?_

_Storm99: unusual_

 

(Oh, you have no fucking idea, brother.)

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: how so?_

_Storm99: idk_

_Storm99: u’r unusual_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: am i?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: good or bad?_

_Storm99: good. great. fantastic._

 

The realisation of what he’s just done crashes on him like a ton of bricks. He just sex chatted his brother and got him to jerk off for him. What kind of sick fuck… Oh my god, if Thor ever finds out…

Now he _is_ feeling sick. About to retch.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: we should call it a night_

_Storm99: u’r the boss princess_

_Storm99: but u’r ok?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah_

_Storm99: u sure?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah_

_Storm99: thank u for this_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: welcome_

_Storm99: don’t let the bedbugs bite princess_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: sure_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: nite nite_

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654 has left the chat._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hands over tissues* 
> 
> i regret nothing
> 
> (except maybe mumblemumble-Ididnotrewritethis-thisisafirstdraft-mumblemumble)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The other clever thing to do, Loki will observe later that night, with the benefit of hindsight (as he retches over the toilet in the middle of the night, cold sweat on his forehead, shaky hands), was to leave a day or two for his fury to cool down before attempting to put again the plan in action. He was clearly too invested in this, too worked up in general, for it to be anything but a complete and unabated disaster. He should have fucking waited. He should have known."
> 
> Oh, Loki, baby...

 

 

“Oh, Loki…” sighs his mother in dismay when he turns up for breakfast the following morning, with spectacular purple circles around his eyes and glazed pupils, caused by an evident, severe lack of sleep. “What was it, were you on your phone, or reading, or revising…?”

Loki rubs his eyes.

“I just couldn’t get to sleep,” he grumbles. “Not for lack of trying.”

“Are you feeling well?” There’s that note of panic in her voice, nothing but an accent. Loki’s ear is well attuned to it, so he doesn’t miss it.

“I’m perfectly alright,” he declares, touchy. Give me a break, mum, it’s been, like, what, ten years?

 

On the matter of being perfectly alright, however, the jury is still out. There are many definitions of alright, but Loki’s pretty sure that what he did yesterday with his brother doesn’t fit into any of them. Frankly, it would be even more alarming if he had managed to sleep at all. As it is, it seems there’s still a semblance of moral sense in that cesspool of wrong his brain is turning out to be.

 

Getting in the car with Thor makes him acquainted with ever more acute levels of discomfort. He huddles in the back seat, stuffs in his earbuds, and tries to get Thor to forget he’s even there. His eyes are falling shut, heavy as lead, but his brain is scuttling in twelve directions, in full panic mode. Meanwhile, Thor is whistling and humming, in an obscenely good mood. And that, of course, is Fucked Up with a capital F. Loki is so, so dead.

He manages to live through the day, and he does so with the firm conviction to steer clear of the chat from now on. Forget this stupid plan. Forget about it all. He’s clearly bit off more than he can chew. He was still way away from finished processing their first conversations, and he doesn’t have a clue how to even approach what happened yesterday. He doesn’t want to think about it. As in, he categorically refuses. Big fat nope.

And when he gets home that afternoon (thank god it’s Friday, mum and dad’s date night, they’ll be out till late, he won’t be pestered), he shuts himself up in his room and spends the rest of the day shooting zombies. He avoids the chat. Hell, he puts the phone in a drawer. He doesn’t want to see it. He doesn’t want to be reminded of any of it. He considers deleting the app altogether.

When Thor gets home (very late, only fifteen minutes before their parents; he’s cutting it closer and closer), Loki pretends to be asleep. Every sound coming from his brother’s room makes him jump.

 

Thor spends a good chunk of the weekend out with his mates. Thank god for small mercies. By the time Monday arrives, Loki’s urgent terror has lost some of its edge. Thor doesn’t suspect a thing, of course. How could he? But he still dodges Thor’s brotherly come ons at school by staying away from the cafeteria. He might not be as scared, but he’s still feeling weird as fuck about it all.

As for Thor, he’s still doing the overly friendly thing, but the novelty seems to be wearing off, or he forgets why he was making an effort, or maybe he’s just too busy having a life. Anyway, things between them slowly return to their natural course. Still no big fights of course, because Loki is pretty much hiding in a portable shell like a hermit crab, trying to make everyone forget he’s there, and there’s no need to fight with a shell.

A hell of a lot of things are happening beneath that shell. The frantic, continuous whirl of his thoughts make entire continental landmasses of belief move within, shatter here, crash there, rearranging the landscape of his thoughts in a process almost beyond Loki’s control, or even comprehension. He can only look on and try to work out what the fuck is happening inside as the pieces this thing has shaken fall into place in strange, new ways. Emptiness detected. Aggravated loneliness. Pain. What the hell is wrong with him?

Eventually it dawns on him, what he’s feeling. When he gets home from school every day to an empty house and a quiet phone, and the plan for the evening is always to sit down with some textbooks, then play, then family dinner, and then read and go to bed. The nagging, unpleasant, irritating feeling sheds layer after layer until its true nature reveals itself: he’s grieving. He fucking misses being Sorrow, that’s what it is. He misses the goddamn chats. He misses being asked about his day, being listened to, getting compliments and attention, he misses… Shit, it’s possible he’s even missing the flirting. He misses looking forwards to something. He feels lonelier than ever before.

A little devil on his shoulder whispers in his ear that his phone is just there. At first, Loki has no problem telling it to fuck off. But as the days go by, the longing gets worse. It really is _just_ _there_. You could have a little look. No need to talk. Come on, where’s the harm.

Aaaaand he gives in. He checks the app, wherein half a dozen messages from Storm await, reading like a crappy yet somehow poignant piece of contemporary poetry:

 

_Storm99: princess u there?_

_Storm99: princess u there?_

_Storm99: princess?_

_Storm99: thought about u 2day princess_

_Storm99: i’m getting a bit worried bby_

_Storm99: just a word to tell me u’r ok?_

_Storm99: princess?_

_Storm99: princess?_

 

It gets him feeling all soppy. Oh, man. He rubs his eyes deeply and turns the app off again. Then he ceremoniously deletes it altogether. For his mental health, for his _actual_ bodily health if Thor should ever figure it out, and because this is… shit, it’s not real. He’ll go insane yearning for something that does not exist. He needs to wean himself off it and move on. Forget the stupid plan, forget everything.

So you’re craving company and affection? How about this revolutionary notion instead: Talk to your fucking brother. How’s that? Don't you think it would make sense? You know he misses you, he’s fucking told you himself. He misses being your friend. He’s trying to be nice to you. So why don’t you do yourself some good, for once, something not completely twisted and unhealthy and insane? How about you just… _Hey, Thor, shall we watch a movie?_ It's really not that hard. He's your fucking brother, fucksakes.

 _The Goonies._ We could watch The Goonies. Haven’t seen it in ages. We could do that…

Good plan. Sound plan. All you need is a little courage, a little determination. He will not reject you. He will not tell you to fuck off. He misses you. He's fucking told you in so many words. So let’s set a date, shall we? So there's no pulling back? Okay, so, Thor has training three times a week, and he meets up with his mates and/or Jane the rest of the time, but maybe on the weekend…? Yeah, maybe on Sunday evening or something? He’s usually in on Sunday evening. We could do it then. Alright, that’s a date. (Shit, don’t use that word.) Uh, that’s set. On Sunday evening Loki shall ask Thor casually if he feels like watching _The Goonies_ together. Like two regular, ordinary, normal, not-at-all-fucked-up brothers. Which they are. Right? They're just a little out of practice.

And Loki feels a little bit better about everything. He’s looking forwards to it.

 

Friday evening again.

“Don’t stay up late, darling,” says mum when she comes into Loki’s room (after duly knocking and waiting to be invited in) and kisses his head.

“You look nice, mum,” says Loki, in high spirits for once.

Her face lights up.

“Thank you, darling,” she says, pleasantly surprised. It earns Loki another kiss. ‘S nice. “How about pancakes for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Sure, mum,” he smiles, genuinely delighted at the prospect. “Have a good time.”

Exits mum, looking too beautiful to be the mother of two teenage boys, in a blue gown with a golden scarf and golden high-heeled shoes. She said they were going _dancing_. It’s kinda gross. Cute, but gross, mostly because Loki just can’t wrap his head around the thought of his dad being anything but a stone-faced grouch. So, dancing? To music? In other people's presence? For _fun_? Get outta here.

 

Soon after mum and dad leave, too soon to be anything but deliberate, Loki hears the back door, then some shuffling, and some giggling. Then quick steps up the stairs, and his door cracks open. Thor’s face appears, preceded by a stretched out arm, finished with a menacing pointy index finger.

“We’re not here, get it?” Sounds like Thor the Asshole is back in town.

“Hi, Loki,” says Jane, poking her head in too, waving.

Thor slams Loki’s door shut.

A second later, Loki hears Thor’s door. More giggles. Then furniture creaking, and what to Loki sounds like hums and sighs.

Loki shuts his eyes heavily. Fuck. Not this. Not today. How about _never_. Fuck, no.

The house is so quiet. The walls are way too fucking thin. Loki frantically stuffs in his earbuds and blares some music, even though he hates it so loud.

He can’t help the images in his head though. Unwanted, violently rejected, and still fucking _there_. He does not want to see them. You hear that, brain? Stop it with the fucking visuals! God, no, he doesn’t want that uneasy feeling in his stomach. Reminds him too much of… He doesn’t want to feel _anything,_ goddammit. Is that too much to ask?

He kills zombies. Or he tries. He’s useless today. He’s just… furious. So furious. So angry. Burning with it. Trembling with it. Nostrils fucking flaring with it, teeth gritting. No idea against whom, or why. Thor, he decides. Because how fucking dare he. Do that to Sorrow. Do that to Jane. How fucking… Damn him! ( _THONK!_ Loki sends the controller flying.)

Play on, idiot. Keep busy. Die bastards die. Fuck you and you and you, and especially fucking _you_.

 

It must have been an hour. Loki’s headache is getting really, really bad. He doesn’t dare leave his room for painkillers.

His door opens and he jumps.

“I’m driving Jane home,” says his brother. “If you tell mum or dad I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Oh, Thor!” says Jane, disapproving. “Ignore him,” she says to Loki.

They're both looking rosy-cheeked and glinty-eyed and Loki wants to fucking set the house on fire.

“You heard me,” warns Thor, doing the fucking finger-pointing thing.

Jane rolls her eyes, shakes her head heavily, gives Loki a complicit 'ugh this man right?' kind of look.

“Bye, Loki,” she waves.

They hop down the stairs. Loki can hear them sniggering all the way down like a couple of idiots.

“Next time, fucking knock!” he yells.

No answer. The door downstairs slams shut.

 

Every drop of ill feeling he’s ever had towards his brother returns full blast. This asshole can’t be allowed to keep getting away with it. He does not deserve this girl. This girl definitely does not deserve _this_. And Sorrow doesn’t… Somebody must teach this asshole that actions have consequences, that you can’t have your cake and eat it, and then get every other fucking cake around just like that, and never have to pay for any of it.

The Trap sounds like a genius idea again. He was being squeamish because he just has to overthink everything. Get a fucking grip. Grow some fucking _balls_. For Sorrow. For Jane.

With a clear purpose and a cool mind, he re-reads their last chat. Clinical assessment: too mild, too sweet, too clean.  It’s miles away from the filth Loki glimpsed in that chat with that Amora girl. He needs to do better.

Now, the clever thing here, the _rational_ thing, would be to create someone like Amora, someone without the innocent/virginal vibe, someone Thor doesn’t have a problem calling a “hot bitch”, asking her to send him a pic of her “sweet pussy,” someone he’s perfectly happy to “put on her knees” and command to “suck that thick cock.” But a) Loki doesn’t have time to do the whole “getting to know each other first” thing again, and b) he wants it to be Sorrow. He wants Sorrow to get her revenge. He wants that chapter closed. Fuck reason. Fuck clever.

So, not the most rational thing perhaps, since Thor has this knight-in-shining-armor attitude towards Sorrow that makes him all protective and delicate, but Loki is no fucking shrinking violet, and he’ll prove that. He may not have actual experience, but he’s seen his fair share of porn and he’s read enough smut online to be able to fake this shit convincingly. Psych yourself up. Just words on a screen. Not real, not true. Don’t overthink. Just get him where you want him, screenshot the fuck out of the chat, create a ghost email account, email Jane the filthy evidence. Behold your brother being faced with the reality of what he’s doing. Behold his ass being kicked. Breathe easy, Loki, for you will conquer.

 

* * *

 

The other clever thing to do, Loki will observe later that night, with the benefit of hindsight (as he retches over the toilet in the middle of the night, cold sweat on his forehead, shaky hands), was to leave a day or two for his fury to cool down before attempting to put again the plan in action. He was clearly too invested in this, too worked up in general, for it to be anything but a complete and unabated disaster. He should have fucking waited. He should have known.

He’s always been told he should learn patience, for his own good. Well, lesson learned the painful way, he thinks, as he flushes.

He sits with his back against the cold tile wall, panting. He can only thank the heavens he managed not to wake anyone up.

 

Burrowing in his bed some time after that, obsessively going over recent events, he confronts reality. It wouldn’t have made a difference if he had waited two days or three weeks or ten fucking years. This has nothing to do with clouded judgement and bad timing. This sick shit is within himself. He rocks on his side, hugging himself. God, what is he going to do now.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've got the next one ready... Won't publish just yet. SUFFER!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, will you look at this. He’s got Thor precisely where he wants him. And he didn’t even have to try! How about that. ... You won’t have an opportunity like this again. Look at him, he’s put himself on the platter, stuffed the apple in his own mouth, and he’s ready to be cooked and carved. Just a little nudge, that’s all it will take. Wasn’t that the plan? Well what are you waiting for, then?
> 
> The uncomfortable churn in his underbelly is beginning to stir. Courage, Loki."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought of waiting until tonight but... Hey it's Saturday, the sun is shining, and I am IMPATIENT okay?

 

 

(Earlier that evening.)

 

He waits with his ears pricked up for Thor to come home from dropping Jane at her place. His brother doesn’t keep him waiting long. He hears the front door and footsteps thumping up the stairs. Loki downloaded the app again, and as Thor stomps down the hallway, he makes Sorrow log in.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: hey_

 

He messages just as Thor walks past his door and mumbles some sort of greeting.

His brother’s bedroom door shuts. Approximately ten seconds later, Loki’s phone vibrates in his hand.

 

_Storm99: princess! been missing you so much! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 _

 

Loki’s jaw clenches tight, beyond his control. A dark scowl settles on his face. He tries – he really does.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: oh yeah?_

_Storm99: so much bby_

_Storm99: u had me all worried_

 

No, Loki doesn’t really try. Who’s he even trying to kid.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i bet u had ten other girls to help u pass the time_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i bet u have them lining up_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m sure u were just fine_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

 

You’re huffing like a fucking steam train, idiot. He’ll fucking hear you!

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: am i wrong?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u’r not gonna tell me i’m the only one are u_

_Storm99: u’r the only one i talk to since we started chatting_

 

Ah, the fucking small print. Nice try, brother.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: like u would tell me if that wasn’t true_

_Storm99: it’s the truth_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: sure_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: sure it is_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: did i do anything wrong princess?_

 

Loki rubs his eyes. Calm the fuck down, you sound like a fucking bunny-boiler. That’s not the way to get him down and dirty with Sorrow again, which is how you’re going to get your own back. Be fucking cool, dammit.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: why r u so nice to me?_

 

Huff. Epic fail. You’re such a fucking imbecile.

So who fucking cares anymore.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it’s like u want me 2 have feelings 4 u_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: don’t u think that’s kinda cruel?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: since i can’t have u_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: bc it’s not real_

_Storm99: it’s real_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: get the hell out_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i bet u even have a gf irl_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: don’t u?_

_Storm99:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’ll take that as a yes_

_Storm99: we never said anything about that_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u know, u’r totally right_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i don’t have a right 2 b angry at u_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: this is just a bit of harmless flirting nothing more_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: nothing to it_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: this is just me making it more complicated than it’s got 2 b_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: sorry about that_

 

Too bad there’s no special font for sarcasm.

Well then, that was that. You’ve managed to outdo yourself. Failure with a capital F, the kind that’s several fonts larger than the rest of the text, and it’s encased in gold, finished with curlicues, and fucking decorated with flowers and gryphons or human-faced lions or some shit.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i better go_

_Storm99: princess wait_

 

No siree. You get yourself out of here right now, young man. You won’t get what you’re after tonight, so just don’t fucking stay here nattering!

(He’s typing before he knows it. He just can’t let it go.)

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: why u do this if u have a gf?_

_Storm99:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: she doesn’t satisfy u or something?_

_Storm99: it’s not that_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: i started chatting here when i was between gfs_

_Storm99: i stopped for a while when i started dating J_

_Storm99: but then after a while idk_

_Storm99: we don’t get to b together that often and i found my eye straying i must admit_

_Storm99: this seemed like a harmless way to let off steam_

_Storm99: kinda sleazy i know_

 

Did Thor hear the snort from behind the wall?

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: kinda?_

_Storm99: i know_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: not proud of it but it seemed less harmful than the alternative_

 

Why have a fucking steady girlfriend in the first place? Nobody fucking makes him! Anyway that’s not the point.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: if u just want 2 let off steam, why were u so nice 2 me 2 begin with?_

_Storm99: why should i be anything but nice?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: i can’t just throw dick pics at girls i’m not like that_

_Storm99: doesn’t even turn me on when it’s just_

_Storm99: i like feeling they'r real u know what i mean_

_Storm99: i like girls who are real people not pornbots_

_Storm99: and just bc it’s about sex doesn’t mean it has to be cold or impersonal_

_Storm99: and just bc a girl feels like having a bit of fun online doesn’t mean she’s not a human being_

_Storm99: don’t u think?_

_Storm99: i’ve been raised to respect people what can i say_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: princess?_

 

Loki is all choked up, his eyes burning. Even as a fictional imaginary online girl, he’s still fucking pathetic. Sexy, eh? Thor won’t be able to resist the allure of his self-pity.

Well, finish this, then.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m such a fucking drama queen ain’t i_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: learn ur lesson, don’t ever b nice 2 lonely crazy girls_

_Storm99: don’t say that_

_Storm99: i really like u_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: sure what’s not 2 like_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: oh right i’m pretty ain’t i_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: a complete perfect human being in every way everything u need: boobs and a pussy_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: princess u’r a lot more than pretty_

_Storm99: and u’r a lot more to me than just a warm body_

_Storm99: i love talking 2 u_

_Storm99: u’r fun u’r clever u’r sassy_

_Storm99: and do u think i get to talk with just anyone the way we u and me have talked?_

_Storm99: i feel like we get each other_

_Storm99: it’s so easy with u like we’ve known each other forever_

_Storm99: it feels good to let things out and feel like somebody gets u_

_Storm99: doesn’t it?_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: i just feel like there’s so much more 2 u_

_Storm99: and hey i like that u don’t take shit from any1_

 

(She’s talking all of yours.)

 

_Storm99: and it might b my problem but it’s not the same with J_

_Storm99: idk it could b i guess_

_Storm99: idk_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what_

_Storm99: with her i’ve never felt like i can talk about things like my brother and stuff_

_Storm99: like she has this image of me and i have 2 live up to it_

_Storm99: and like there’s a lot of me she wouldn’t like if she knew about it_

_Storm99: or anyway i just never feel like it’s a good time to talk about these things_

_Storm99: anyway that’s my problem not hers_

_Storm99: and i know what i do here sucks_

_Storm99: but it’s true what i said_

_Storm99: i’ve thought about u a lot_

_Storm99: i’ve missed our chats_

_Storm99: and i’ve been worried_

_Storm99: i was concerned u had freaked out over what we did_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: have u thought about me too?_

 

It’s getting harder to breathe.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what do u think_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: in a good or bad way?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it’s complicated_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: see above_

_Storm99: i like how u sound u make me smile_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: do u think about what we did?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah a lot_

_Storm99: again, good or bad?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: idk_

_Storm99: how do u feel about it now?_

 

Oh, brother. If only I could begin to tell you.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: weird_

_Storm99: right_

_Storm99: and while we were doing it? did u lie 2 me then? did u say u were alright when u weren’t?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i may have struggled to push through some reservations and neglected to let u know_

_Storm99: did that make u feel bad?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: nah not bad-bad just_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: did u like it while we were doing it?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes_

_Storm99: did it feel weird then?_

 

(Oh brother, you have no idea.)

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: not as much_

_Storm99: glad 2 hear that_

 

Hm. Loki’s calmer now. Yeah, appeased. He's totally been charmed hasn't he? Thor has a knack for this, who'd knew? To think he's the one with the reputation for being physical, and Loki the one with the words. Hell, Thor, you managed to sweet-talk even _me_. Let's remove our imaginary hats to such remarkable prowess.

And hey, will you look at this. He’s got Thor precisely where he wants him. And he didn’t even have to try! How about that.

On the other hand, Loki's really, really not sure he wants to go there tonight. What he wants with his brother is still mostly to strangle him. (Why does he have to be so fucking…? “I was raised to respect people”, sheesh. Give me a fucking break.)

However. You won’t have an opportunity like this again. Look at him, he’s put himself on the platter, stuffed the apple in his own mouth, and he’s ready to be cooked and carved. Just a little nudge, that’s all it will take. Wasn’t that the plan? Well what are you waiting for, then?

The uncomfortable churn in his underbelly is beginning to stir. Courage, Loki.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i have thought a lot about u_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i have thought a lot about what we did_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and yeah i guess i wasn’t totally cool all the time but_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but i didn’t feel sick or panicky or anything_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it was good and u were so nice_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i feel like i can trust u_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i did fear i was getting a lot more into this than u are_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and it’s scary_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: that’s why i stayed away 2 clear my head_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i guess that gave me 2 much time 2 think and i managed 2 work myself up into well_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what u saw earlier_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: sorry about that_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u’r very nice and sweet u’ve been so good 2 me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m not used to people being nice 2 me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but yeah we never said anything about real life we didn’t make any promises or set any rules or anything_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and fair’s fair i know now and i’m still talking 2 u so i guess_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: if this is wrong then i’m just as in the wrong as u are_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: bc i don’t want 2 stop talking_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: sorry i went at you like such a crazy bitch earlier_

_Storm99: don’t say that_

_Storm99: stop putting urself down all the time_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: force of habit_

_Storm99: habits can b broken_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i guess self-pity is not a turn on_

_Storm99: never mind that_

_Storm99: be kinder 2 urself_

_Storm99: it’s better for ur health :)_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u like me anyway?_

_Storm99: ‘course i do_

_Storm99: u’r really something_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: something huh?_

_Storm99: yeah something special <3 _

 

Oh god, bring the bread and the sticks, let’s have a fucking fondue party. All that goddamn cheese.

Now, focus. Deep breaths. Here we go.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u still want me?_

_Storm99: yes princess_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i want u 2_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’d love 2 b with u now_

_Storm99: i’d love that 2_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

 

 _Gulps_. Still hard to write down.

Yo, wake the fuck up! Words on a screen. This is not you, it’s Sorrow, imaginary girl, talking to some nameless, faceless binary entity in the world wide electronic ether. Come on.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: would u kiss me_

_Storm99: very sweetly._

_One_for_Sorrow5654: would u touch me_

_Storm99: if u wanted me 2_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: do u want 2 fuck me_

_Storm99:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: don’t tell me 2 slow down_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: just answer me_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: yes i do_

 

Loki’s heart rate is picking up again, dammit.

He considers going to sit at his desk rather than lying in bed to put even more distance between himself and this. Don’t be stupid, he tells himself. This is where you always fiddle with your phone. Don’t change a thing because of this. Don’t make it weirder.

He soldiers on.

 

_Storm99: princess?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m lying on my bed_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m taking off my clothes_

_Storm99: shit_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: does that turn u on_

_Storm99: yes_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m naked now_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: lying in bed_

_Storm99: front or back_

 

God, his throat is so dry.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m on my back_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i’m spreading my legs open_

_Storm99: fuck princess_

 

Loki is breathing hard, belly tumbling like a fucking washing machine, hands tight around his phone to stop them from shaking, and he’s got to bring himself to write things he never thought he’d be texting to anyone, let alone… Can he get an actual, physical heart attack from this? Or is it something that only happens to old millionaires with wives one fifth their age?

Okay, here goes.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i want u_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: touch me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: fuck me_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: not so fast_

 

Oh my fucking god, Thor. I’m getting grey here!

 

_Storm99: i want to eat you out first_

_Storm99: i’m gonna make u ready_

 

 _Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump…_ Loki's heart making his chest shake.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: so do it_

_Storm99: i’m lying between ur legs_

_Storm99: my face in your pussy_

_Storm99: i’m dying 2 know how u smell bby_

_Storm99: dying to taste u_

_Storm99: can u feel my tongue on u_

 

Thor’s words are like a punch low in his belly, making him huff. He refuses to name or analyse what he’s feeling. It’s just… biology, okay? Your fucking hormones don’t understand what the problem is, primeval evolutionary adaptations that they are, producing instinctive drives coming from the deepest reaches of your reptilian brain, animalistic and immune to law and moral, and… and you’re fifteen and fucking full of them. That’s all it is. Don’t fucking make a meal of it. Don’t overthink this so much.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i wish_

_Storm99: imagine it_

_Storm99: hot and wet_

_Storm99: licking u_

_Storm99: playing with ur clit_

_Storm99: now i’m sucking it_

_Storm99: ur hands in my hair_

_Storm99: come on pull if u have 2_

_Storm99: if it gets too much_

_Storm99: don’t b shy i like it_

_Storm99: i like everything about this about u_

_Storm99: i’d love 2 hear u moan_

_Storm99: and call my name_

_Storm99: and shake bc it feels so good what i’m doing 2 u_

_Storm99: are u touching urself princess_

 

Loki has a pretty fucking massive erection, throbbing and pulsing like a dumb, blind animal, and he’s still wearing his jeans, which are always too tight, and shit, he’s aching. He cups himself and squeezes. God, feels so good. Has he ever been that hard before.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah_

_Storm99: pretend it’s my hand_

 

He whimpered out loud, shit. Did Thor hear anything? He sits very still, fearing the sound of his heavy breathing will carry through the wall and betray him.

 

_Storm99: are u doing it?_

 

(Thank fucking Christ.)

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah_

_Storm99: lick ur fingers_

_Storm99: slowly slowly_

_Storm99: like u were showing me how u like it_

 

(Oh god. He squeezes tighter.)

 

_Storm99: r u ok bby_

 

(Arguably not, but…)

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes so good_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: don’t stop_

_Storm99: i want u 2 put ur finger inside u_

_Storm99: b really gentle b careful_

_Storm99: imagine it’s mine_

_Storm99: i’m going 2 open u up very slowly very gently_

_Storm99: so that u’r ready for me_

_Storm99: it’s not going 2 hurt one bit_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

 

Oh, god. Fuck. Loki’s on the bed with his hand on his crotch and his legs crossed and he. Shit, he’s bursting with need. Fifteen years old, at the biological peak of his sex drive, and _never fucking getting any_.

It’s so unfair. The first, the only fucking time in his life he’s with an actual separate real human being, and he’s _not_ about to puke his guts out. Look at him, he’s fucking writhing, desperate, aching for it, a fucking wet spot on his jeans. Isn’t that how it is for everyone else?

It’s not fucking real. It’s not his goddamn brother. It’s a character he’s playing. And this is not Loki himself, this is just someone he’s made up. This is like, like talking to a machine. It doesn’t fucking mean he has the hots for his fucking brother. It just… Doesn’t he get to have this? Just this once?

 

_Storm99: are u doing it?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m making myself ready 4 u_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: for ur cock_

_Storm99: shit princess_

_Storm99: say that again_

 

Oh, _god_.

Loki lies flat on his back. Hands clumsy, trembling badly, he unbuttons his jeans, pulls them down. He grunts when his cock is released. He spits on his palm, and bites his lip when he starts stroking, trying to keep quiet. Hmm… He's gonna have to do this with his left hand if he's to keep texting with his right...

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: ur cock_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it’s gonna feel so good_

_Storm99: if i was there i’d still be licking u_

_Storm99: fucking u slowly with my fingers_

 

His hand on his dick is not enough. He can't... feel the words. He... he fucking wants to feel the words!

Oh, _fuck this_. Let’s go to town, shall we. Loki pushes his pants down to his knees. He keeps a tub of hand cream in his drawer, says “vaseline” on the lid. He has been using it for – well. He scoops out some cream, lifts one knee, reaches down, slips one finger inside. His dick throbs now, aching for stimulation, but at least if he shuts his eyes for a second, he can pretend... (God you're so, so sick.)

Good job he’s skilled at typing single-handed.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’ve gt my fingrs inside_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: im fuckng myslf_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: opening myslf_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: 4 ur big fat cock_

_Storm99: fuck_

 

A noise behind the wall, Thor’s chair creaking. Loki’s heart jumps; he stays very still for a moment. If he can hear this, does it mean Thor will be able to hear him?

He turns onto his stomach. He could just bite the pillow if…

He keeps going with his fingers, and now he can also hump the mattress. Oh, fuuuck…

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m so trned on_

_Storm99: i’m so fucking hard bby_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m onmy frontt_

_Storm99: fuck princess_

_Storm99: god what i wouldn’t give 2 see u like that_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: im onmy frrnt nd ihave my fingrs indise nd ur wtchingme nd tuching urslf_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: waitng 4me 2b ready_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: ndwhen im redy ur gonna getn top ofme_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: andur gnna fuckme_

 

Humping the mattress, frustrated, two fingers in, he wishes he could fuck himself properly with them. He wants this so bad, he might just fucking leave a burn mark on the fucking comforter.

And the image just pops into his mind unasked for, but once it’s there, he can’t unsee it. His brother with his pants down, hard-on in hand, standing there, ready to put his dick inside him. He’s… he’s so fucking beautiful.

Loki whimpers into the pillow and arches his back and really tries to stab his fingers in. His mind shows him Thor’s hand, his fingers. He knows them so well. Seen them all his life. Oh, fuck…

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: im ready_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: god fuck me_

_Storm99: yes princess_

_Storm99: i’m lying on top of you_

_Storm99: i let u feel me_

_Storm99: ur so wet_

_Storm99: u let me in so easily and sweetly_

_Storm99: i push it inside u_

_Storm99: u feel so good bby so good_

_Storm99: r u ok princess_

 

Loki groans into the pillow.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: its not enogh_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: my fingrsr not enough_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i want u i want it 2 b real_

_Storm99: shh_

_Storm99: imagine my weight on top of u_

_Storm99: imagine how full u would feel_

_Storm99: we’re closer now than u’ve ever been with anyone and it feels amazing_

_Storm99: i won’t start moving until u feel good_

_Storm99: breathe bby_

_Storm99: i’m kissing ur back ur neck i’m stroking ur hair_

_Storm99: i’m whispering in ur ear how wonderful u feel_

_Storm99: now i’m moving gently_

_Storm99: so that u get used 2 me_

_Storm99: when it starts 2 feel good ur breathing will change and ur face_

_Storm99: and i know i can start really giving it 2 u_

_Storm99: r u touching urself princess_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes_

 

So clinical, so underwhelming, “yes”, when Loki’s breathless and whimpering and having to bite the sheets to keep himself from whining in need.

 

_Storm99: i’m fucking u now_

_Storm99: god ur so hot and so sexy_

_Storm99: touch urself bby_

_Storm99: i want u 2 come_ _while i’m inside u_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: fuck yes_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

 

_Loki puts his phone down on the pillow, props it against the headboard. He puts his ass higher up in the air for room to maneuver. Grabs hold of himself, sticks his fingers back in. This position makes everything a hundred times worse. And better. He feels exposed, in offering, and it’s sort of humiliating and fucking mind-blowing. He’s never been more turned on in his life._

_Fingers inside, just pressing, he jacks slowly at first in a vain attempt to make it last. But it escalates so quickly. He just lets himself be carried away. He’s panting and tiny mewls do escape his lips now and again, and fuck, what if Thor hears him, what if… Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh god…_

_He buries his face in the pillow for a moment, but he needs to keep looking at the screen. He wants to keep reading; he wants to feel Thor’s presence in there with him. God you’re sick, so sick… fuuuuuck…_

 

_Storm99: i can feel u getting closer_

_Storm99: i can hear u_

_Storm99: fuck princess i’m close_

_Storm99: come for me bby_

 

Fuck, that word… Loki clenches his jaw and groans low and strips fast, clenches around his own fingers up his ass, and duly comes all over the fucking bed, sobbing.

He stays there as he is, milking it to the last drop, shuddering at every aftershock. He almost types “Thor”. He almost sighs it.

 

Wow. Fucking _wow_. So that’s why people think of nothing but sex all fucking day. Wow.

 

Still panting, he extracts his fingers, wipes them on the comforter, rolls onto his back, (avoiding the wet patch).

And this must be an afterglow. His mind is serene and calm and empty, and his body feels heavy and boneless, like the mattress is sucking him in, and it feels fucking great.

After a long moment, the phone buzzes. He turns his face lazily to see, but he can't read it. His arm needs severe coaxing to grab for it.

 

_Storm99: princess r u ok_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i came_

(Understatement of the fucking century. There were fucking fireworks, didn't you see them? Or was it an earthquake. How did you not feel it?)

 

_Storm99: me too_

_Storm99: that was fucking beautiful bby so hot_

_Storm99: u ok bby?_

 

Is he?

His lust sated, slowly sobering up, it starts to sink in. The reality of what he’s done. The lies he’s told himself, which were complete and utter bullshit, and yet he fucking clung on to them anyway, to shut up the other voices shrieking in horror in his head, so that he was able to... God. He’s so many fucking degrees of not ok. He’s… a sick pervert, basically. He just had the best orgasm of his young life imagining his own brother was fucking him.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah i’m ok_

_Storm99: was it good?_

 

Well, at least that’s not a lie.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: incredible_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u?_

_Storm99: it was amazing_

_Storm99: god ur amazing_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: *u’r_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: we’re not savages_

_Storm99: lol_

 

Sluggishly, Loki props himself up, examines the mess. Pants around his knees, come streaking the comforter, his limp dick, his slick ass. And the toilet roll he keeps in his bedside table for this kind of thing is almost finished. He’s going to need a bigger roll, he snorts as he starts to clean up.

And then he starts crying. He sobs quietly like a heartbroken little boy, face hidden in his hands, shoulders shaking.

 

_Storm99: princess? ok?_

 

Oh, great, his brother is now a telepath.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i don’t know_

_Storm99: what’s wrong? u feeling sick?_

 

He scoffs and wipes his eyes, but the tears just keep coming.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m not going 2 puke rn but_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but i’m_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: idk_

_Storm99: tell me pls_

_Storm99: try_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:  i can’t_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: idk_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i need to go_

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654 has left the chat_

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let it be said, the author does not necessarily espouse the character's views and reactions and feelings. This talk about being sick and perverted and corrupted and stuff, that's all Loki's mental drama.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "For the first time in his young life, Loki is feeling the full meaning of being in over his head. He’s sitting there in a sandstorm of confused thoughts, desires, and needs that shake him this way and that; what he can have, and what he can’t; what he wants, and what he should not want, but does have; this place he got himself into, which feels too fucking good to be real, and isn’t real, but is, in a way? Oh, his brain is going to fucking explode. God, all the things that are there for him to take, if he dares. They’re only ghosts, illusions, dreams. But unlike in an actual dream, he can decide how this goes, or he can deny himself. He can step back from this. He can end this.
> 
> Does he want to end this?"

 

“So,” says mum with a kindly but tight smile, “you _don’t_ have a temperature. You’ve only been sick the once, though? You’re sure you haven’t thrown up again this morning?”

Still in bed and refusing to get up and face the world (not even for pancakes, which is what got mum into his room in the first place), Loki shakes his head no. He tries, really tries, and barely manages, to hold back the snark. (Mum, you can’t just… throw up and then be _not too sure_ about it.) He knows she’s only offering an out if he previously lied, giving him one more chance to own up to “the truth.”

The interrogation has been going on for a while. “Nothing, really” wasn’t cutting it, hence his confessing to his nightly inconvenience to give her a bone to chew. And she’s looking at him _that_ _way_ , and there’s that wrinkle between her eyebrows that she gets when she’s worried and never vanishes completely anymore; he’s sure seen enough of it in his young life.

“Just the once, last night,” he insists. And he lies. “I pigged out on candy bars. Sorry.”

She stares at him, really stares, like she wants to burn a hole in his forehead with her eyes and see inside. She does not believe him, does she? It’s got nothing to do with Loki’s acting skills. It’s just, she knows him. With Loki’s health, she’s always bracing for the worst. So he lies to spare her the anguish that will get blown out of all proportion _and_ to get her off his back, and she knows he lies, because he _would_. Same desired outcome: some peace. Undesired, self-defeating outcome: mistrust. He can’t win.

She lets her eyes fall to one side, sighing loudly. She’s going to let it go, but she’s going to make sure Loki knows this is a free pass, and he only gets so many of those. Careful now, young man.

“Okay then. So, do you want to stay in bed for a bit longer?” she offers.

Loki nods eagerly. That was the plan.

“Shall I bring you something to eat?”

“No, thanks.”

“I will get you a Gatorade, though, and you better drink it, okay?”

He rolls his eyes, but only slightly.

“Okay, mum.”

“Okay,” she says softly.

She leans over to press a long kiss to his temple. Loki closes his eyes for it. He’s incapable of returning the gesture - not sure why. He used to be a cuddly, affectionate little boy. But now, when he gets a hug, he can only stand there awkwardly, unmoving, until it’s over. Why?

“Call me if you need anything. I’ll leave the door open so I can hear you.”

“No, mum, it’s not necess… Okay, you did it anyway. Fine.” Sigh.

 

Alone again. Alone with his thoughts, actually, so his room feels kinda crowded.

It was a dismal night. He’s so tired. He wasn’t sick straight away, oh no. He lay in bed frozen in terror while hearing his brother walk to the bathroom, wash, piss, and walk back, and he remained frozen for a long time after, awake, shivering, like a rabbit crouching in a field with a bird of prey circling above. He heard mum and dad get home, heard their muffled voices and soft laughter, heard them take turns in the bathroom and go to sleep. He heard them flick their light switches off even ‒ snappy sound, made him jump. And then he heard the house settle down, wood frame creaking like an old ship, and other night noises ‒ dogs barking outside, cats calling, isolated voices and steps on gravel, one single car getting home at a stupid hour. Soft laughter. And he felt more lonely and alien than he had ever felt in his entire life, and that’s saying a lot. Out there, normality. In here… God help him.

The most idiotic, most pathetic feeling had invaded him suddenly. He wished he could just knock on his brother’s door and get a hug. His brother. Who always used to have his back. Who always listened to Loki fret about being a freak and a weirdo and a loner everyone hated, and always knew what to say to make him feel better. Better, normal. Loved. And he couldn’t. Loki could not walk those few steps, could not leave behind that flimsy wall between them, could not knock on Thor’s door, and ask his brother for a hug. It was impossible. Thor was only next door, but he might as well live on the moon. Loki is not capable of asking, and Thor doesn’t offer. End of. A few days ago, he would have put it down on the fact that his brother hated him. Hey ho, his brother does _not_ hate him, who knew! …But he would. If he ever found out that Loki…

And that was the point in the night when Loki’s innards turned upside down again, and he only just made it to the toilet.

 

He must have managed to fall asleep at some point, because he had weird, feverish dreams that he could not remember but that didn’t do anything to help settle down his digestive system.

It was late morning when he finally regained consciousness, what with mum breezing in, talking about pancakes. She’d drawn the curtains to let the daylight in, Loki had receded into the shadows with a hiss and a groan. He must have painted quite a picture, because her smile dropped the second she turned and saw his face.

“Darling, are you feeling well?” she had asked, with a painfully obvious effort not to sound panicked.

Because Loki managed to overcome his illness, but he's beginning to realise his mum probably never will.

 

* * *

 

She brings him the drink, because hydration and minerals and electrolytes and stuff, because Loki is so thin that he can’t waste the nutrition of even one single calorie. And he drinks a few sips for her, because the whole waltz is now ingrained in his psyche and it just happens like that. He promises to finish the rest of it, but he absolutely doesn’t mean to. Dad is shut up in the toilet (should be a while…) so Loki contemplates just throwing the thing out the window. Silly idea, but also fun. Yeah, hilarious, actually, he can’t resist. So he gets out of bed and goes to the window, mischief on his mind.

But then he pokes his head out, and there’s Thor, mowing the lawn, shirtless. A pile of bulging, outrageous muscles glistening with sweat. And Loki freezes there on the spot, unblinking, white noise filling his head.

After god knows how long, Thor stops to wipe the sweat falling into his eyes. He throws his head back to have a drink of coke (gasp, _his neck_ ), and he spots Loki up there.

“What are you staring at, squirt?”

He’s smiling and it’s like the fucking sun in the sky.

A smart-ass comeback is in order to preserve a semblance of normality, but Loki can’t think of any. Can’t think, period.

Realising he’s being weird as fuck, and hoping his brother will put it down to the malaise du jour, Loki scrambles back inside, all the way to his bed, and burrows under the covers.

It… doesn’t make any fucking sense, such a reaction. It’s not like he’s never seen his brother before. And it’s not like he hasn’t _looked_ at him. Stared, even. And he’s never, ever…

What _was_ Loki staring at, indeed? Well, why wouldn’t he stare? They are so different. Loki takes after mum’s side of the family. He’s of a similar body frame as Frigga herself, tall and strong but still slender, and he’s the spitting image of granny Heidi in her youthful black and white photos, boy version. Probably prettier. Those androgynous features are very attractive on a woman, but they’re striking on a man. (Hey, don’t shoot the messenger; he’s just stating what he sees in the mirror on a good day). And while Thor has a lot of Frigga’s northern European ancestry to him, with the blond hair and all, and the height, the bulk is more from Odin’s side of the family (if said family was on steroids). Uncle Thrym especially was another gorilla of a man too. So growing up, why wouldn’t Loki be curious about all the differences between Thor and him? Nothing weird about it. They both used to look and compare. Hands, feet, arms. Hair. Freckles. The color of their skins. Other things. In the bath. You know.

So it’s not as if Loki has just noticed his brother’s presence as a physical being. As in, try not to notice Thor’s physicality. In peak summer condition, with that smile and those ridiculously deep blue eyes breaking through a glowing tan, the bleached blond hair, and the persistent clothing deficit, it emanates in waves, it fills the room, it presses you against the walls. And yeah, there’s no doubt what it is —pure sexual charisma. Even if you don’t feel it yourself, you can see its effects on other people. It’s kind of hilarious at times, like when a few of mum’s neighbour friends come over for cards and Long Island tea or sangria in the backyard, and Thor storms in after training or whatever, and the first thing he does is take his sweaty t-shirt off and dash to the kitchen for a glass of something cool. The ripples of flustering and preening it causes among the slightly tipsy, utterly respectable matrons that see him through the French doors, like the rooster had just been thrown into the chicken pen. You can see them thinking about it, imagining it. How does that body feel when… Yeah. Thor has this effect on people. In-your-face physical impact. One look at him, and boom, everyone’s mind in the gutter. And that’s even before he unleashes the cheek, the teasing, the charm he has in spades.

So Loki can see it, and always has. He can appreciate that Thor is objectively hot by the aesthetic conventions of their time and geographical location. And? Plenty of hot people in history have had siblings. Those siblings could not have been blind to it. Doesn’t mean anything. And with a brother like Thor? You could be blind and still fucking feel it, his aura; Loki’s sure of it. Not that he has ever felt it himself.

He has never felt it.

No, really. He has never fucking felt it before. _Ever_ . With anyone. Shit. Is _that_ normal? He can see attractiveness in people. Sometimes he’s really, really fascinated by it. Like Sif’s face, god, and her neck and collarbones when she got that haircut. Or Rogers from the football team, so damn pretty. That boy Barnes has something magnetic about him. Jane’s amazing skin, and that long neck. Yeah, Loki likes to look at beautiful people. Loves it. And animals. And buildings. And gardens. All the beautiful things. But he has never… felt anything about it. Beautiful people, that is. He can become entranced looking at someone’s beautiful face, but nothing stirs in him.

Again, louder for the people in the back, because he has just come upon a pretty fucking big realisation: he has never wanted anyone. No-one. Ever. Is… is _that_ normal? I mean yeah, he’s young, sure. But people at his age (and much, much younger) have the hots for other people, right? People get crushes? People pine and yearn and chase after people? And want to touch them? Thor was snogging girls at twelve! (That awful barn dance in the village at Auntie Ida’s, oh god, don’t remind him.)

And Loki realised at the time that he wasn’t getting it. That he didn’t have that urge, that whatever was causing that fire in everybody else’s pants was passing him by without affecting him and he just… he thought Thor was an early bloomer, and himself a late one. But… Loki _has_ blossomed now, hasn’t he? His balls have most definitely dropped, he’s duly sprouted some (not much) hair in the customary places, a nice silver timbre has added depth and gravity to his voice. And he does get horny, and he jerks off, and he even reads porn (watch it not so much, he freaks out about being discovered, and it’s usually so damn ugly). He just… isn’t into anyone in particular. Nobody gives him _those_ _feelings_.

Until now.

Oh. Oh _god_.

He's always known he was missing something. He had never understood just exactly what that was, not really. You can't miss something you've never felt. 

Listen, Loki reads. He reads about teenagers thinking they’re the first, the only ones to do this that and the other, and has read that maturing is, among other things, the great relief of realising you are not. Not the first, not the only one, not the last. But holy fricking jesus, try and tell yourself now that _this_ is normal. Just try.

And just like that, Loki needs to be sick again.

 

* * *

 

The phone burrs that evening in the drawer. Loki can't resist. He checks it.

 

_Storm99 has joined the chat_

 

_Storm99: hey princess_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: i guess u can’t talk that’s fine_

_Storm99: i hope u’r ok, and i hope u’ll tell me if u’r not, promise u will_

_Storm99: anyway i just meant to say it was great yesterday and u’r amazing_

_Storm99: you’re* bc we’re not savages XD_

_Storm99: thinking of you princess_

Storm99: nite nite <333

 

_Storm99 has left the chat_

 

So it seems we shan’t be getting any meaningfully restful sleep tonight either, old chap, thinks Loki, but hey, at least he’s not puking all over the place. He must be getting used to the new status of things —that he’s precisely the sick freak everyone in school has always said he was. Is this how the acceptance stage feels like?  Anyway, it sounds like progress.

 

* * *

 

“Not sure you should be going to school, you know,” says Thor on Monday morning, when Loki gets in the car. He can see his brother’s blue eyes in the mirror, trained on him. “Mum’s right, you don’t look so fresh.”

Loki does look like shit. And he feels like shit. There’s no point in waving it off, so he lies.

“I-I don’t want to miss the chem quiz. I really need to push that grade.”

Thor’s eyes in the mirror are smiling, warm and kind.

“Nerd,” he says softly, endeared. He’s starting to pull out of the garage now, so he misses the positively starry look in Loki’s eyes when he hears his big bro talking to him like that. “But you’ll tell me if you change your mind and need a ride home, yes?”

Loki mumbles yes. He huddles in his corner and agonises, those scraps of affection rubbing some very old, deeply set sore spots better, and simultaneously throwing salt on an array of fresh, very fucking stingy wounds. Good god, this whole thing is turning to be an ever-worsening, unmitigated fucking disaster.

He spent the weekend trying to avoid his brother. The stomach thing helped because he was able to skip the family dinners. He’s been mostly in his room, either trying to get his mind off things by playing and reading and wasting time on the internet, or psychoanalysing himself to death and back several times. In a spiral. A downwards spiral.

Thor was out all Sunday with his mates, and his absence was tangible, a physical pull, the universe sucking the life out of Loki to try and balance the sudden lifelessness in the house. And though Loki still managed to miss dinner, and spare himself some face time with his brother, he just _had_ to poke his head out into the hallway the instant Thor was stepping out of the shower in a waft of steam, with a small towel around his waist, a wink and a sunny smile for his kid brother, and nothing else. Aaaand basically Loki’s fucked, so fucked, so so so fucked. The fuckedest.

So his mood on Monday is basically funereal; he’s a sober mourner at his own wake. He’s gone through the five stages. He’s overcome the denial, the anger and the bargaining, and he’s now somewhere between depression and acceptance. He walks down the school hallways like a zombie.

It’s usually where the shittiest things of his day happen, in these goddamn aisles. In class he’s sort of safe, but here… Ever since he set foot in this goddamn place, the moment his classmates laid eyes on him, they started to hate him. They could tell he was not to be trusted, accepted, or befriended, lest they caught his cooties, whatever they were. They thought he was, what, a bit fishy? Gay? Hard to fit in a box, and therefore suspicious? A nerd? It’s hard to try to go about your life not knowing why nobody likes you, what have you done to draw people’s negative attention like that. Makes you meek, scared, always on red alert. You don’t know when you’re trespassing, when you’re Doing The Thing They Hate. When you feel an innocent victim in all of this, when you’ve Done Nothing. Makes you want to bury your head in the sand, or failing that, keep your head low, avoid making eye contact, and hope people will miss you as you walk past and leave you be today.

Loki doesn’t feel like he’s Done Nothing anymore, and he certainly doesn’t feel innocent. He’s sick, a fucking pervert. He’s all the things people say about him, and then some. He has a pretty big fucking secret that goes beyond these peasants’ imagination, whose idea of _pervy_ and _edgy_ is getting drunk and making out with their bro for a dare, or getting their girlfriend to take it up the ass. They fucking call jerking off to porn “sinning”. They’re all so fricking _cute_. Loki feels like the fucking Prince of Darkness in comparison. They can badmouth him all they like. They’ll still never even get close.

So Loki's zombie walk transforms into something else. Today he doesn’t have to _try_ to walk with his head high, he doesn’t avoid making eye contact. He's not scared. Nothing can touch him.

Walking by the group of uptown girls (he really hasn’t paid attention to their names), there’s a whistle. It comes from that tall, bosomy, feisty redhead. From overhearing the locker room talk, he knows she’s being lusted after by a considerable portion of the male population, but so far she’s not marrying anyone.

“That ass, Odinson, that ass!” she calls behind his back.

He turns to look over his shoulder, surprises all present with a smirk.

“What about it?” he teases.

“Oh my god, and that voice!” she sighs, fanning herself.

Loki laughs. He himself can tell it’s a caressing, sensual sound.

“Oh my god did you hear that? Somebody hold me!” she says, pretending to faint.

She’s funny, actually. Loki struts away with a smile on his lips.

Jared and his gang are hovering around the door. They witnessed everything. Loki blows them a kiss. There’s a moment of panic as they all scramble to dodge it and make it clear how disgusted they are. Loki smiles in contemptuous delight, looking down on them from miles above their stupid, pathetic little heads.

 

He takes his chair, and there’s a phantom throb where he perhaps went in a bit too hard on Friday. His back also remembered the strain all through the weekend, pins and needles in his arm. It was excruciating yesterday, and the day before, a painful reminder of what he’d done, of what a twisted pervert he is. With every pinch of discomfort, came the stab of awareness; that he could not pretend anymore it was a fantasy in his head, but a physical thing he had done _with his brother_ . But right now, after the little face-off in the aisle, it feels… It feeling exactly like that, like he didn’t dream it. Like it was real, something he _did_ , something that _happened_. Like someone real truly romanced him, wanted him, cherished him, and thoroughly fucked him. It almost feels like he’s not a virgin anymore.

And it’s such a fucking relief. Fucking look at him, the way he’s sitting. Usually stiff and ramrod straight and proper, trying to go unnoticed by imitating an architectural feature (until he opens his mouth, of course). And will you look at him now, manspreading like a boss, leaning over the backrest, liquid posture. Aware of his body, aware it’s something people want, and for once, not afraid of that.

He’s always been aware of the stares. The lusty stares of the girls who want him, the spiteful stares of the boys who could recognise a rival equipped with weapons they didn’t have, and the humiliation that he didn’t even need to use them. All those goddamn stares. Made him feel tense, on the defensive. He used to engage the resting bitchface to put them all off, and try to disguise his terror with plain old boredom and superiority. Because terror is what he felt. Terror of being discovered. That he was an impostor with a painfully embarrassing secret -that he didn’t have a clue.

Ever since puberty, he felt like everyone else knew more about his own body than he did. Because whatever they saw in it, or in anyone else’s, Loki couldn’t see it.  He couldn’t respond to it. He couldn’t meet it with something of his own. These people who looked at him and lusted after him, they had experience he didn’t have, knowledge he didn’t have access to. Didn’t even matter whether they had done something or whether they were pure as driven snow like himself. It wasn’t about what they’d _done_ , it was about what they _felt_ , and Loki didn’t. It was like everybody else was one up on him; like being the only little boy in a party of grownups, knowing there is more to it, and unable to see over the fence.

But everything’s different today. He now knows that he too can experience lust for someone, and _be_ with someone, and fucking get off on it like an ordinary everyday human teenage boy (provided one doesn’t think too closely about it, which he shall pointedly avoid doing right now if that’s okay, thank you very much). It feels… fucking hell, it feels awesome. Shit, he’s feeling _sexy_.

It’s Sorrow who has a cyber boyfriend; it’s Sorrow who has started having sex; but it’s Loki who’s strutting the halls like a supermodel, sizzling with sexual energy, his head high, graced with a mysterious little smile of which only he knows the secret.

 

* * *

 

The Loki that comes home that evening is an entirely different Loki from the one who left that morning. Even dad notices.

“It must have been one of those twenty-four hours bugs,” he comments after mum asks Loki if he’s been sick again today. “He’s looking perfectly alright now.”

“But make sure you chew your food properly,” she admonishes. “You don’t want to give yourself another stomach ache now.”

Thor smiles at him and shrugs, complicit. Mothers, eh? Loki smiles back and looks low, hoping his bangs will conceal the fluster. He's the one impatient to finish dinner this evening. And yeah, he’s also fucking ravenous. He wolves it all down.

"Can I be excused?"

 

He scrambles to his room and only fricking manages to make himself wait exactly fifteen minutes before logging on, to be a bit less obvious. He even sets a timer. He types the message and leaves it there. And when the timer goes off and he logs on and he sees that little green dot next to Storm99, he smiles uncontrollably, and his hands shake as he taps on _send_.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: hey_

_Storm99: hey princess <333 _

_Storm99: how r u feeling 2night_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: not bad_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:  u?_

_Storm99: so good princess_

_Storm99: i thought of last night all the time_

_Storm99: how sexy it was_

_Storm99: my head was in the clouds_

_Storm99: almost felt like it had happened IRL_

_Storm99: sweetest thing ever_

 

Loki hides his face in a pillow and wants to scream, he’s so pent up.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: me 2_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:  all day i’ve been_

 

Oh, he doesn’t even fucking know where to begin!

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’ve been treading on air_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i felt so confident_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: when i got shit from people i just talked back_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i felt proud_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:  i think i may b giving off the vibes_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:  i got flirted with a lot_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: honestly it’s been a great day_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: thank u_

_Storm99: princess that’s so great_

_Storm99: i’m so happy about that really_

_Storm99: like, i cannot even say how much_

 

(Yes, well, there is nothing ten kissy emojis cannot convey.)

 

_Storm99: had a good weekend?_

_Storm99: no freak out moments?_

 

Loki snorts, he sniggers. It’s all so absurd. It’s so absurd and ridiculous and fucked up, it’s actually funny.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: actually i had a bug or something_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but apart from that_

 

Why not? Thor would never believe it.

 

_Storm99: oh poor u_

_Storm99: wish i could have come round with a bowl of soup to tuck u in_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: tuck me in eh? >;-> _

_Storm99: bby if it was RL u’d probably 've been sore_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: thought u said it wouldn’t hurt 1 bit_

_Storm99: no but it’s kind of weird for the body_

_Storm99: so i’ve been told_

_Storm99: don’t think u’d feel like getting “tucked in” again so soon_

_Storm99: if u know what i mean_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i hear u’r a resourceful man_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: maybe u could think of something_

_Storm99: bby u’r insatiable XD_

 

That throws Loki off. Is he? Insatiable? Really? And why is he preening like that?

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i do feel a bit u know_

_Storm99: a bit what?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: like we actually_

_Storm99: right *blush*_

_Storm99: did u hurt urself?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: not hurt but_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i did get a little bit carried away_

_Storm99:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what not good?_

_Storm99: lol no just_

_Storm99: princess the things u do to me with a couple of words_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: *blush*_

_Storm99: naw don’t ur too cute_

 

Oh my god, Loki is going to… hnnng! He presses the pillow on his face to stifle whatever utterly mortifying sound he was going to utter otherwise.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: tell me what u would do if u were here_

_Storm99: ;-)_

_Storm99: u naughty girl_

 

Loki’s heart begins to beat harder.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: tell meeee_

_Storm99: i’d take u in my arms we could cuddle up together_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: *yawn*_

_Storm99: lol_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: kiss me?_

_Storm99: could do yeah_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: hey don’t do me any favours XD_

_Storm99: lol_

_Storm99: i can guarantee i can do A LOT with only kissing_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah i’m sure you can_

 

Yeah, he’s seen it.

Shit, Loki sees it now –Thor and Jane in the car, the morning kiss when she and Darcy get in. Thor’s technique, so accomplished – the heavy lids, the soft lip bite, the eyefuck – just a kiss, but so much to it, so intense. And Jane melting in her seat; if it had been a hundred years back and she’d been wearing a corset, she’d be needing Darcy to fetch her the smelling salts.

Jane.

Fuck.

 

_Storm99: or necking i love necking_

 

Loki contemplates those words for some time.

What the fuck is he doing. The plan. His vengeance. Jane and Sorrow and all those girls. He hasn’t thought of it for one split second since he logged on today. What the actual fuck is Loki doing right now. What is this about.

 

_Storm99: princess?_

 

For the first time in his young life, Loki is feeling the full meaning of being in over his head. He’s sitting there in a sandstorm of confused thoughts, desires, and needs that shakes him this way and that; what he can have, and what he can’t; what he wants, and what he should not want, but does have; this place he got himself into, which feels too fucking good to be real, and isn’t real, but is, in a way? Oh, his brain is going to fucking explode. God, all the things that are there for him to take, if he dares. They’re only ghosts, illusions, dreams. But unlike in an actual dream, he can decide how this goes, or he can deny himself. He can step back from this. He can end this.

Does he want to end this?

He knows that there are reasons to end this. He doesn’t remember what they are right now.

 

_Storm99: u ok? Can’t talk?_

 

He's not one for Stoicism. Too much enforced isolation. Denying himself just isn’t his style. His style is more doing the stupid thing and deal with the regrets and the self-loathing later.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: necking?_

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A high school party. Loki knew going was a bad idea. Boy, does he hate being right all the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for homophobic slurs

_Storm99: a party?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah with actual physical human beings in it_

_Storm99: lol_

 

It’s not the first time Darcy has invited him to one of her “little do’s”, but he’s always chalked it up to her being a very promiscuous social animal who likes to sow the seeds of acquaintance to the four winds indiscriminately just to see what takes, without necessarily meaning anything by it. Loki gravitates to the Thor system, and Jane has entered that orbit, so Darcy’s tentacles automatically reached for him too. Loki never thought about her as a potential friend (Is that what they are?), not really. However, for the last couple of weeks, there has been some morning chatter in the backseat of Thor’s car; that led to sitting with her at breaks, sharing a fag now and again (don’t tell Thor), and even arranged meetings to take the bus home together on a few separate occasions. And in a moment of madness, drunk on the feeling of having someone to talk to, Loki told her everything about Storm.

“Oh my god! Is he cute?” was her reaction.

(Never once had he mentioned Storm’s gender; is Loki that freaking obvious? Anyway, who the hell cares! Because she doesn’t.)

“He’s hot as fuck,” he had answered, dreamy eyes. 

“Gah, tell me everything!”

And he had, more or less, and they’d both gotten very excited about it, and Loki felt it all become a little bit more real. He was going to lose his mind completely at this rate. But it just felt so good…

“ _So_ happy you finally got that stick out of your ass and put something else in instead!” she laughed.

He’d been riding the high, and found it quite funny.

So anyway, it’s not the first time Darcy invites him to a thing, but this time it wasn’t as an afterthought to inviting Thor as attaché to Jane. This time Loki had an invitation all of his own. And you know what? He’s thinking about it. Yes siree, he’s thinking he might just go.

 

_Storm99: yeah u should go_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u think?_

_Storm99: of course_

_Storm99: it’s good 2 c people isn’t it?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: idk is it?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i never have a great time at these things_

_Storm99: nobody is gonna force u 2 stay if u don’t want 2_

_Storm99: but try, why not?_

 

Why does that sting so much? Storm so casually pushing Sorrow into a crowd and telling her to have a good time should be good, right? Except. _Except_. Except what Sorrow really wants is for Storm to kidnap her, lock her up in the tallest tower of his castle, all the while roaring “You are _mine_ !” Healthy and mature relationships, you say? (His fucking _brother,_ Loki could answer.)

Does passive-aggressiveness actually come through in text form?

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i should right_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: try and meet some1_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: some1 real i mean_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: yeah but remember u don’t have 2 do anything_

_Storm99: if u’r not attracted if u’r not comfortable_

_Storm99: just don’t_

_Storm99: there’s lots more things 2 do in it u can just talk 2 people_

_Storm99: hooking up is not mandatory ok_

 

That’s more like it. So Loki can’t help but keep pulling that thread.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u trying 2 dissuade me?_

_Storm99: dissuade u?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah sounds like u wouldn’t like me 2 hook up_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: jealous?_

_Storm99: lol_

 

 _lol_ ? I’ll fucking give you _lol._

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: so what if i meet me a fine stud 2night_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i feel comfortable and attracted_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and something happens_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: what_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: idk u tell me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what will u do_

_Storm99: u’r goading me?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what if i am?_

_Storm99: u’r a very naughty girl_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: maybe i need a correction?_

_Storm99: princess u trying 2 kill me?_

 

Rolling on his back on the bedcovers like a cat in the sun, Loki watches the words on the screen for a bit longer, taking them in.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: *sucks lollypop*_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’ve been bad daddy_

_Storm99: argh don’t do thatttt u know i can’t rn_

 

Loki smirks. He smirks, he fumbles with himself, he grins happily.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: *pop* so so naughty_

_Storm99: omg bby don’t_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i need you to punish me_

_Storm99: princesssss_

_Storm99: can’t go downstairs 2 dinner w a massive boner_

_Storm99: have some mercy_

 

Loki sighs. It’s a happy sigh, though. He slips his hand out of his pants, one last squeeze for good luck. Back to the matter at hand.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it’s ok it’s not gonna happen_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: meeting a stud and all that i mean_

_Storm99: why u say that?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: bc i’m an awkward nerd and a total fail in social situations_

 

(And because I’m _so_ not interested right now.)

( _Sigh_ , by the way.)

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’d like u 2 b at that party_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: meet u there_

_Storm99: that would b awesome_

_Storm99: i’m going 2 a party 2_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: wouldn’t it be awesome if it was the same 1_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: yes it would b awesome_

 

That desperate sigh. Thor must have fucking heard it from behind the wall.

But then: Earth to Sorrow? Hello?

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but ur girlfriend will b there 2 right_

_Storm99:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

 

Yes, well, you know what? Of all of Loki’s problems right now, Jane is possibly the one that should concern him less, so just...

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: anyway_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i don’t think i will go_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i really hate these things_

_Storm99: no u should go_

_Storm99: u really should_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: we’ll see_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: see how i feel tomorrow_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: gotta go_

_Storm99: good nite princess <333 _

_One_for_Sorrow5654: nite_

 

He lies in bed, contemplating the ceiling, his life and his choices.

For the last few weeks, he’s been living his days on two different planes, as two different people. Loki is miserable, bored, and spends all his time wanting to run away from reality. Sorrow is a live wire, crackling with energy. She giggles, she flirts, she teases, she is seduced and praised and worshipped, she gets told beautiful things, and filthy things, and she definitely loves to exist and can’t get enough of it. For an hour or two in the evening (sometimes more, whoops), Sorrow fits into Loki's skin better than he ever has. She's happy.

It’s not always perfect, of course. Reality sometimes sneaks in and it stings (like when they get a bit too close to the Jane-thing), but he’s getting really good at quickly brushing over that kind of stuff and forgetting about it. He remembers every chat session as beautiful and perfect, and it's what keeps him going until the evening comes and he can slip into Sorrow’s skin again. If they don't get to talk, Loki feels so lost and bereft, it should be kind of worrying. But then the next chat session comes and all the pain and concerns are forgotten. He lives. At first it sickened him. Now it scares the hell out of him. He's depending more and more for his only source of joy on the most impossible, most unattainable fantasy on the planet. He’d have a better chance with James fucking Dean, dead and all, because good old Jimmy at least wasn't a blood relative? And he might have actually liked him back? 

He surprises himself watching when Thor doesn't notice, when he's concentrating playing a game, that array of little frowns animating his expression, when his brow furrows, making the blue of his eyes even deeper. When he hasn't shaved and those golden bristles catch the light. When he's acting cute with mum to get something from her. When he's in a good mood and he hums in the kitchen making his breakfast. When he's feeling playful and they cross paths in the corridor and Thor crashes his shoulder with Loki's and Loki grumbles and Thor chuckles. His mouth. His hands. His feet, even. His fucking knees. It seems every bit of him is a source of fascination. And if Loki is nowadays always keeping an ear out when Thor is showering, to pop out into the corridor just as Thor walks to his room wearing only a towel and still dripping wet, it's just because the asshole always takes forever and Loki's short for time and can't waste a second to get his own shower. Of course that's all it is. 

(He's started to hear Storm's words in his brother's voice. He's not anywhere near as weirded out by that as he should be.)

Anyway, what are you even talking about. He does not think of Thor _that way_. He tells himself he doesn't. It’s not Thor. It’s Storm. And it’s not Loki who’s into Storm, it’s Sorrow. It’s all a fucking fantasy, that’s what it is. He does _not…_ have a fucking crush on his brother. That’s preposterous. What a stupid notion. I mean, have you even met that asshole? Like, have some respect for Loki’s self-respect, such as it is. That would be… Just, _no_. Not what this is, not what’s happening. _No_. And that couple of hours Sorrow gets to live in the evenings, they’re not real either. _They’re not real_. Yes, they feel more real than anything Loki does in the daytime, but they’re… smoke. They’re nothing. Not real. None of it. It's just... In most of his teachers' rather unoriginal phrase, "Loki's a kid with a vivid imagination." That he is. He's always found it easy to get lost in the printed word. His mind fills in the colors and shapes and shadows and lights. If it's a good fiction, he really gets affected, he suffers for the characters, his mood changes with the story... He engages deeply, and he lives the fucking thing. Like a drug-induced trance. (But what a sweet high it is.) 

And Sorrow and Storm are a good fiction. A fucking great fiction. That's all they are, nothing else. But, okay, yeah, he’s hooked on it, that’s true, and that’s a little worrying. But maybe, just maybe, he should think of getting it under control. Make it just a _part_ of his day, not the sole purpose of his entire fucking existence and the axis of his every thought.

What he needs is to get himself a fucking life.

 

__________________

 

Thor is humming and playing the drums on the wheel as he drives to Darcy’s party. Loki is in the passenger seat, for once. The drumming annoys him. Thor’s sunny mood annoys him. Life annoys him. Why the fuck did he ever decide to come?

“Curfew is at one, got it?” says Thor. “So we have to leave by twelve-thirty tops. Okay?”

“Yeah, heard you the first twenty times.”

“Aren’t you a bucket of sunshine tonight,” says Thor. “You’re gonna be so popular.”

Loki’s mood is awful because he is shitting bricks. Thor could never get that. It doesn’t happen to him. In a group of people, he seems to grow, expand in all directions, shine brighter, and fill the room. And he just sees Loki being a snarky little bitch, and responds accordingly. ( _Nice, brother, thank you. Just what I need right now.)_

They park two blocks away from the house. The walk there is quiet. Loki is trying for slow, even breaths. He’s dolled up a little, all in black, hair loose and painstakingly dried into soft spikes; he’s put on some eyeliner even. _“You sure about that?”_ Thor asked him before they left the house. _“Got a problem?”_ Loki snapped back. Thor shrugged with a “suit yourself” kind of attitude. Ugh! Loki could strangle him. But he knew perfectly well what Thor was on about. And as they approach the house, he doesn't feel so cocky anymore. It’s easy to stare into the mirror and tell yourself “you can do it, yeah!”, and put on his war paint and think “you’re a pretty boy, you know.” But stepping out of the house like that, like he’s wearing a red light on his head, asking for attention... I mean, he _wants_ some attention, he doesn’t want to be hiding alone in a corner the entire fucking duration of the event, but… God, he’s having so many second thoughts right now. He won’t admit it for all the fucking bandwidth in the universe, but he could use a friendly word. One of Storm’s solemn, powerful “you’ll b ok” would really go down well. He has the stupidest thought, the most absurd picture in his mind: Thor with his arm around his shoulders. (Even walking hand in hand, like when they were kids. —Shit, don’t.)

That’s Darcy’s door. Loki’s throat is sandpaper dry. Thor buzzes the doorbell.

“Argh, you’re here!” screams Darcy, doing a little bounce of joy. She gives each of them a kiss and a hug, and then grabs Loki’s arm and whisks him inside.

“Twelve-thirty at the door!” shouts Thor behind him. “I won’t wait!”

The music thuds around the house.

“What the fuck is this?” asks Loki.

“The Partridge Family, aren’t they amazing?”

Loki responds with a nose-wrinkle.

“Hey, it’s my birthday, I get to pick the fucking music. Come on!”

She drags him inside by the crook of his elbow, and every now and again she introduces him to random groups of people.

“Everyone! This is Loki! Loki, this is everyone!”

“Very useful, Darcy, thanks,” he snarks.

“I can’t believe you came, dude. I really thought the pass yesterday afternoon was final.”

“Changed my mind. Need a bit of fresh air.”

“Well, big fat chance of that I’m afraid, maybe in the yard? Anyway, how’s that internet beau of yours. Any more remarkable nocturnal feats of daring?”

Poor Loki: Sensation festival inside. Ghost tingles, electricity, that crazy, overloaded enthusiasm the very thought of Storm unleashes in him. Having a confidant makes it all a hundred times more real, the tingles a hundred times more tingly.

“Some,” he says, totally flustered, and bashful about it, eyes flitting around as if somebody could see and _know_.

“Tell me _right now_.” She grabs his arm and they walk. “Has he eaten your ass yet?”

“Oh my god, Darce…” He’s blushing hard.

“Look at youuuu…!” she coos, pinching his cheek. “You’re adorable. We should get you a dildo.”

“What?” snaps Loki, shocked.

“The dick-shaped thing that you shove up your pleasure-hole to give you nice sensations?” she translates for him. “With long-distance things, it helps a lot, I can tell you. You know when last summer Ian went for that student exchange in Europe? That’s how we made do.”

He must have a seriously stupid expression on his face right now. She’s looking at him like he is one of those vids of a Labrador puppy learning to play fetch and tripping and rolling over his head or something.

“I’m gonna get you sorted, don’t worry,” she laughs, and kisses his cheek. “And now I can do it legally, wahey! I can walk into a sex shop and go to the counter and say Gimme the Biggest Dildo You Have. I’m of age! Let’s partaaaay!”

She drags him to the kitchen, where the countertop is covered in bottles and food trays. It’s full of people coming and going, laughing hysterically, talking way too loud.

“Here’s the booze, and here’s the food. Be smart, eh? Bit of both.”

Just then, the doorbell rings again, and she runs away without another word. Which leaves Loki in the middle of the kitchen all alone, conspicuous and pathetic. This is going to be such a fucking great night, isn’t it?

On the table there’s an assortment of bottles, soda pop and alcohol and a barrel of ice with beers. He doesn’t know where to start.

“What’s it gonna be?” says a sultry voice over his shoulder.

He turns. Oh dear, it’s the foxy redhead girl who keeps flirting with him in school.

“I have no idea,” Loki says.

“Then allow me,” she says. The way she stares at him, fixed look, way too close. It’s as hard to hold her stare as it is to look away. Mesmerising.

She grabs two paper cups and pours ice, coke, and gin. Hands him a cup, smirking.

“You’re trying to get me drunk?” says Loki.

“You look like you need it,” she winks.

And hers is a friendly, familiar face full of genuine interest in a sea of threatening strangers lurking in the shadows and giving him confusing looks. Loki is very, very grateful for her right now. He takes a sip, her eyes on him, burning.

“I really loved how you shredded that dickhead Jared or whatever the other day,” she purrs, leaning closer, well into his personal space.

“Uh, thanks.”

“You just do these things, don’t you? You don’t have to prepare. It just… happens.”

“Not quite, but…”

“Shh, don’t contradict me. You’re a genius. I like geniuses. And my my my, isn’t that a pretty smile you got. And you don’t even know it, do you?”

What the fuck does one answer to that.

Theoretically, all that pushiness should annoy him. Why isn’t he annoyed? Relieved is what he is. Happy to let her take the lead and happy to trail after, be told where to go and what to do. He takes a sip of his drink.

“That’s it,” she mutters. “Drink up. Up, up, up…”

Loki obeys, and finishes his drink. Smiling, she pours him another and puts it close to his lips. Oh, to have that self-confidence. And should that fail, just submit to it. So he does. He drinks. She whispers in his ear,

“Want to go somewhere quieter?”

The living room is hardly quieter, and they still need to speak into each other’s ear to hear a word, but it’s certainly darker, and there’s a spot big enough in one of the couches, between two high bros and a cooing couple, and they take it. She’s sitting sideways on the couch to face him, tip of her sneaker casually rubbing on his shin.

“What’s your name?” asks Loki in a loud voice. He’s feeling a bit happy now, booze starting to do its thing.

She laughs. She’s in three of his fucking classes, he should know, right? But instead of offended, she finds it hilarious.

“I’m Sig,” she says in his ear, hot breath caressing the shell.

“Hi, Sig, I’m Loki,” he replies into her ear.

“I know,” she’s still laughing. “Oh my god, you’re so cute! I can’t stand it!” she sighs, and puts her head on his shoulder. Her mouth is close to his neck.

Which is nice. Really. I mean, his heart is racing a bit, but. He pats her head, clunky and awkward as fuck.

The music has gone mellow, it’s a bit quieter.

“So cute, and so hot,” she whispers into his ear. Loki shivers. “The hottest fucking thing in the entire school.”

Loki thinks he should say something back. It’s not like he can’t see the attraction. She’s objectively aesthetically pleasing. Handsome face, great bone structure, flaming red hair, and her freckles are really lovely. Also sassy, classy, and brimming with confidence. He’s pretty sure that makes a person sexy.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he says.

She laughs.

“What a poet. I consider myself thoroughly romanced.”

He laughs now. She’s quite funny. She kisses his neck, once. Loki startles a little, squirms. She kisses him again, open mouth now, wetter. The sensation spreading through his body is not completely unpleasant. To be honest, he has no idea what it is. He’s nervous, but that’s not all he's feeling. He doesn’t have a fucking clue where this will go as she carries on. Will he have to run for the toilet to be sick, or… She kisses his ear, then his face. Her hand in his hair, threading in, it’s nice, he likes that. His body likes that. He shuts his eyes and he wishes, he prays. Please, let this be okay. Let this feel okay. She kisses his mouth. She’s gentle. She parts her lips, and Loki parts his, and he feels her tongue, just a slight dip, and she bites his lip, and he’s kissing her back, her hand is on his stomach, rubbing gentle circles, and this is the real thing, boy, _this_ is real. Loki expects the rush of panic at any moment. It doesn’t come. …But nothing else comes either. He doesn’t feel much, apart from the taste of BBQ Cheetos and booze in her breath.

A silence between changing songs or whatever. Brings Loki sharply back to his senses.

“Sig…” he mutters, pulling away as much as he can, with the backrest of the couch as his limit. He thinks he should confess. _I’m pretty sure I’m gay_.

He never has the chance.

“Oh my fuck, Odinson, are you blind?” comes a voice. “That’s a fucking _girl!”_

Sig pulls apart, frowning. It’s Jared and his asshole friends.

“Yeah, I know you’ve never fucking seen them before, but those are boobs, you derp,” says Caleb.

“That’s really fucking shitty, Odinson,” says Jared. “Leading her on like that.”

“Hey, leave us the fuck alone,” says Sig.

“Go fuck yourself, Jared,” hisses Loki.

Which doesn’t go down well at all.

“Get off her, faggot!” says Jared, stepping closer, aggressive stance.

Loki stands up, anger tensing him up. They’re right in each other’s faces.

“What did you call me?”

“You fucking heard, _faggot_.”

Loki shoves him. Jared shoves back. Loki sees red, and charges. Throws his fist aiming for whatever, but it smashes into what feels like a bar of steel and never hits its target. Then a strong pull at his arm that almost topples him back, and a big black bulk steps in front of Loki’s face, and stands between him and the group of assholes.

“Back the hell off my brother.”

It’s Thor. His voice is cool and calm, like he’s in complete control. And he is. A voice inside is screaming at Loki to take back the fucking situation, but he’s frozen still, like everyone else in the room.

“Oh, big bro to the rescue,” mocks someone in the background. Thor squares them off with a stare that cuts the snicker off sharp.

If Jared had thought to go down the mocking route, he quickly thinks better —Thor is about one full head taller, and many, many pounds of pure muscle heavier than him. And he absolutely won’t balk, he’s forecasting it as loud and clear as if he was wearing a t-shirt that read “fucking try me.” He still has Loki’s arm in an iron grip, keeping it behind his back. Loki is shaking and panting with adrenaline and unspent rage.

“Are you fucking deaf as well as stupid,” growls Thor. “Get the hell out of here before I break your fucking face.”

Caleb and the rest of the assholes fall into a spontaneous conga line and stumble and scramble for the door. They drag their bro Jared with them (He was still standing his ground, trying to safe face.)

Then and only then does Thor’s claw loosen its grip on Loki’s arm. It throbs where his brother’s fingers sunk in.

“You okay?” asks Thor.

“Why did you have to do that!” snaps Loki, red with shame. “I was fucking dealing with it!”

“Oh yeah, sure, you had everything under control,” scoffs Thor.

Loki feels his fucking skin tighten as he swells with burning fury and frustration and humiliation. It bursts out of him in a shove he deals Thor straight across the chest that makes his brother stumble back (and Loki too).

For a moment, the scene is still as a movie frame. Thor’s expression is bitter and dark and mean. Loki is absolutely sure for a whole minute that he’s going to get hit.

Then Thor’s expression resolves in contempt.

“You’re fucking welcome, asshole,” he says.

“Fuck you!” screams Loki, and strides off before he bursts into tears.

He whooshes past Darcy.

“Loki, baby, so sorry, I honestly didn’t invite them, I didn’t let them in…” she apologises as he goes past.

“Leave me alone,” he barks.

The backyard. Several people there, small groups, in darkness. They’re staring. They must have heard the ruckus. Loki, you idiot. You did not think this escape route through.

A gentle stroke on his arm, right where it throbs still with the imprint of Thor’s paw.

“I really didn’t invite them,” insists Darcy softly. “I don’t know who the fuck let them in. When I find out I swear…”

“Never mind,” he cuts her off.

Who cares? The damage is done. He’s fucking pathetic. On every single fucking level. No need to note that Sig did _not_ follow him here. Some picture he must have painted, cowering behind his big brother. Honestly, will humiliation in social situations ever fucking end? Oh dear, it's about to get worse. He’s going to fucking _cry_.

“I’m really sorry, baby,” says Darcy, petting his arm.

“Forget it,” he insists, moving sullenly away from her touch.

Awkward silence. They’re trapped here. On the one hand, everybody just leave him alone already. On the other hand, he does feel better for her being there. He’s just absolute crap at showing it. But she’s still there, not minding how prickly and difficult he’s being. He’s so, so grateful.

“How about a drink?” she suggests.

How very fucking 1950s of her. But it’s something to do, and it’s better than standing there like a pair of idiots, Loki sulking, Darcy pitying. So they go for a drink, and it’s Loki’s third, and he hasn’t eaten anything, because nothing on those trays appeals (shop-bought sandwiches and snacks in bowls, who fucking knows how many hands have been in there after touching god knows what. No thanks.) Bad idea all around.

A girl comes to find Darcy, _mwah mwah, happy birthday, omg you got me a prez?_ (a black tank top with the word SLUT in silver glitter all across the boob area, makes Darcy shriek with delight, for some unfathomable reason). The girls start chatting, Loki doesn’t bother learning the friend’s name or even pretending to join the conversation. He does follow them as they do the rounds group by group, saying hi there and stopping for a word and a giggle. He's like a dumb, stupid shadow, but it beats the hell out of standing in a corner all alone, broadcasting to the whole room what a loner, a weirdo, and a reject he is.

Their aimless perambulations around the house take them through the sitting room. The atmosphere there is different than when Loki occupied it briefly with Redhead Sig. It’s mostly couples now. Loki has a bad feeling, and he doesn’t want to look, he tries not to look, but still he can’t not see it. A slim brunette straddling a jean-clad lap, a pair of big hands Loki would know anywhere cupping her ass, squeezing, pulling their crotches close. It’s Thor and Jane of course, heatedly making out on the exact same fucking spot on the couch where Loki was earlier.

Is it nausea? Is it a sob? Is it a goddamn guffaw of demented laughter? No fucking idea what it is, but there’s so much of it rising to Loki’s throat, threatening to come out in god knows what way, right here in front of everyone. _Don’t fucking run, you fool, makes it look worse!_ He tries. He must have failed, because he can feel Darcy frowning without even looking.

Thank fucking god, the bathroom. He locks the door, his hands shaking, feeling ill. Braces himself on the sink, and dry heaves for a minute with his eyes shut tight.

His life fucking sucks hairy sweaty fucking balls. He hates _everything_. He wants to fucking die right now.

Once his guts have calmed down, he opens his eyes and sees his face in the mirror. The black eyeliner. Not sure why, that’s what tips him over, and here come the waterworks.

One minute, he tells himself, as he sobs miserably. You have one minute. That’s all he’s going to allow himself. One fucking minute weeping, shedding big fat tears, sobbing so deep he’s choking.

And that’s it, one minute gone. That’s all you get. Now you pull your stupid fucking self together.

He runs the cold water and washes it over his eyes again and again, until the tears stop.

When he’s done, he looks like an absolute fucking mess, and feels like crying again. _Oh no you don’t. Deep fucking breaths._ He finds a brush and puts his hair sort of back in place. He looks in the drawers and cabinets until he finds a bottle that says makeup remover and a cotton bud. He wipes the traces of black away. At least now he’s clear. His eyes are still red and puffy, but there’s not much he can do about that. He’ll just have to make it a quick escape. He’ll keep to the shady areas, get himself out of the house, and go sit on the sidewalk for two hours beside his brother’s car until it’s time to go home. Hopefully Thor will let him in.

More deep breaths. Wipes the expression off his face as best he can. Opens the door.

And there is Tony Stark, leaning against the opposite wall. Nothing in his posture indicates he’s queueing for a piss.

“You okay?” he asks.

“The hell do you want?” snaps Loki, startled.

“You look a bit green. Need me to get Thor?”

“ _No!_ ” Loki barks, bit too loud and sharp.

Puts a thoughtful look on Stark’s face, but not a surprised one. Makes Loki uncomfortable.

“What about a ride home?” offers Stark.

Loki’s first instinct is telling him to fuck off. But it’s not as strong an instinct as usual. Maybe it’s the blissful notion on his mind to get home as soon as possible _without_ having to face Thor. Maybe it’s the way Stark has offered, casual, unaffected. Loki doesn’t feel pitied or looked down on. Loki isn't uncomfortable anymore. What he is is suspicious.

“Why are you being nice?”

Stark’s lip quirks. He thought that was funny, but not enough to laugh.

“Because I’m a wonderful human being,” he says. “And I was leaving anyway. Come on, I’ll drive you.”

He even texts Thor on Loki’s behalf on the way out. What a godsend. Loki could totally use a break, so he takes it.

 

A quiet ride. Stark keeps his eyes on the road, soft music on. Sounds like Frank fucking Sinatra. He doesn’t attempt to make conversation. It’s a relief. He doesn’t need directions, since he has been to their place a few times, to tutor Thor in math and physics. Thor has no problems really, but with Stark’s help, he’s managing to crank up all his science grades. He’s aiming for full scholarship from an Ivy League school. With his football and academic grades, he should be fine.

“And here we are,” announces Stark as he pulls up in front of chez Odinson Brothers’ front yard.

Indeed. Loki unclasps his seatbelt slowly, thinking he should say something, but struggling. He’s still suspicious about it all. Like, maybe there was fresh paint on the car seat, or something more sophisticated, since Stark is a mechanical genius and all. Was it a petty prank after all?

“Take it easy, eh?” says Stark. He seems innocent enough, though with his huge brown eyes, that’s his default look.

“Thanks,” says Loki.

“Don’t mention it,” Starks says, and winks.

 

“Had a nice time, darling?” asks mum. She’s watching an old Audrey Hepburn film and knitting while dad snores on his armchair.

“Yeah, awesome,” he says, sarcastic as fuck. What a thing to ask, it’s barely past fucking eleven.

“Where’s Thor?” she asks.

“Still there.”

“Had you had enough then?” So brightly, so lightly. No a hint of drama anywhere. It’s a fucking piss-take, adding insult to injury. He’s going to say something really nasty and regret it later. He grunts in reply, and goes upstairs.

Shut up in his room, he thinks he’s going to cry, but doesn’t. He doesn’t even know what is it inside, feels like a whole lot of everything, so much of it, he can’t even begin to let it out. He just wants it to stop.

He has thoughts about death. They’re not sincere. And they surely don’t make him feel any better.

 

Later, much much later, he hears the street door and steps in the kitchen. Thor helping himself to some milk straight from the carton, he’ll bet. And then there’s that special ping that indicates Storm has logged in.

 

_Storm99: princess i’m back_

_Storm99: u up? did u have a good time?_

 

Loki turns the phone off and starts crying.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers have a brotherly chat.

 

He does it while Thor is at football training. He has to choose his time carefully. He fears one sweet word from Storm and he just won’t be able to go through with it.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’ve had a lot to think about_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i think i need to stop talking to you_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: because i think i’m_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m def developing feelings_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and that was never what this was about_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i don’t blame you_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: you’re just yourself and you’re very sweet and nice and just_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and you’re just here for a good time and i’m not_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: clearly i need a lot more_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and carrying this on will only end up in tears_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: so i better cut it off before it gets too much_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: although i’m afraid it already is for me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: thank you for making my first time so sweet_

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654 has left the chat_

 

He thought he would cry but he doesn’t. He’s cried enough.

So anyway, that was that. It was sick, total madness, but it’s done. He’ll cut it off and back the hell away as far as he can and bury it deep, now, while he still can. He’s going to put it out of his mind. He’s going to pretend he hallucinated it all. Nobody will ever know just how fucked up in the head he is. He’ll get over whatever the fuck this is, and in time it will be as if it never happened —and it’s that last thought that drives the blade through his heart. Never happened. Never had this. Will never have this again. Now he does cry.

 

 

____

 

“‘M home!”

The front door slams shut (Thor always pushes too hard), the floorboards groan, heavy footsteps up the stairs.

Loki is dejectedly lying on his bed, puffy eyes, gone past hurt into numb. His phone pings. Shit, he should have deleted the app. And he shouldn’t check it now, but he does. There it is, the green dot next to Storm99. Thor must be reading it now. Loki pricks up his ears, tenses up, awaiting a reaction that may or may not come.

The dot next to Storm99 turns red. And that’s all. That’s all there is. It’s done.

 

At dinner, Thor is quiet. Mom and dad are talking about the garage door. It sticks on the way down again.

“It’s these goddamn repair people the insurance company has us lumped with,” dad is grumbling, “they have absolutely no idea. I swear this is the last time we renew. I don’t care how cheap they are, they’re not worth it.”

“If only to save your blood pressure, dear,” mom says.

The kids just roll the food around their plates. Thor stares into space, chews slowly. Loki watches him on the sly, thinking I did that. Or Sorrow did. Managed to wipe the light out of those eyes. Only a few weeks ago, Loki had been so low in Thor's radar that managing to get to him at all would have been a triumph. Some triumph.

 

*

 

It’s late. Loki’s in bed, and he should be sleeping. Needless to say, he can't.

His phone pings, and his heart jumps to his throat.

 

_Storm99: princess_

 

Shit.

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: baby_

_Storm99:_

 

Loki, no.

 

_Storm99: i just want 2 know ur ok pls_

_Storm99: pls i’m worried_

 

Shit. Loki, don’t. Don’t…

 

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: ok fair enough_

_Storm99: one thing though_

_Storm99: princess i’ve been thinking_

_Storm99: to me this started as it always has just a way to let off steam_

_Storm99: no harm intended just fun_

_Storm99: so if u say let’s quit i thought whatever u say bc if this is not fun for u then of course we need to stop_

_Storm99: but i need u 2 know_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: this, u and me_

_Storm99: for me it’s not just about having a good time u know not anymore_

_Storm99: i care about u_

_Storm99: it may count as stringing you along but im right there with u u know what i mean?_

_Storm99: and i guess this makes me an even worse human being_

_Storm99: bc i guess it means im def cheating on J and i know it_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: shit im a fucking mess_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: anyway i just needed u 2 know that_

_Storm99: that i do care for u a lot and that this has not been just some good times and that i’ll forget about it in 2 days and move on_

_Storm99: i won’t i can’t_

_Storm99: but i’ll respect your wishes_

_Storm99: i’ll leave u alone now but_

_Storm99: pls let me know ur ok_

 

Loki clings to his phone in the darkness, that little square the source of all light.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654 has joined the chat_

 

_Storm99: princess! <3333_

_Storm99: bby are u ok?_

 

Oh, Loki...

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654:  not ok_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i want something i can’t have_

_Storm99: baby_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i can’t_

_Storm99: princess pls_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i need 2 go now sorry bye_

_One_for_Sorrow5654 has left the chat_

 

_________________

 

 

Saturday night. Loki’s been miserable all week, shuffling about like a zombie, feeling empty, a frozen wasteland where other people have feelings instead. He's kept his head buried in schoolwork, but eventually even Loki the Über Nerd needs a break. So he’s scrolling through Netflix aimlessly, trying to find something to watch, but it’s hard to find anything that appeals when you're dead inside.

Suddenly, what feels like a sack of wet cement plummets beside him, shaking the entire couch. His brother.

“Shift, smurf,” he demands. It's a small couch.

Much put upon, Loki slides as far as he can go (about an inch and a half), squashing against the armrest. He really doesn't want to be so close to his brother right now. Puts a heavy ball of lead in his stomach. He can't be sure what it is, but his money would be on guilt, self-loathing, and anger. Which is probably unfair and misdirected, but hey, this whole thing started because Thor was an asshole in the first place. Loki didn't make him be a total dick. So yeah, Loki's angry at him, alright.

“What are you watching?” asks Thor.

“Nothing.” He keeps scrolling.

"Shall we watch something?" suggests Thor.

"Like what."

“Fast and Furious?”

“No.”

“The new Star Trek?”

“No.”

“I thought you liked Star Trek.”

“Don’t feel like it.”

“Okay,” sighs Thor.

Loki scrolls and scrolls and scrolls and is fed up. He'll never find anything. What would get through to him right now, what could possibly make him engage? Seven hundred fucking shows to choose from, what an embarrassment of riches! As long as you want to watch straight people doing straight things, oh the drama. And in the LGBTQ section, coming of age stories about pretty boys discovering their sexuality, again and again and again, usually somewhere exotic and warm, and sigh the melancholy when the summer ends, if nobody dies first. Well, fuck them, and fuck this. He throws the remote resentfully on the coffee table, and crosses his arms, with a sullen scowl on his face. He wishes Thor would fuck off and leave him alone. Why is he even here?

“Shit day?” guesses Thor (such insight.)

“Shit life,” answers Loki.

Thor huffs. Which makes Loki's scowl even deeper and grumpier. ( _Yeah, your little brother, such a drama queen, eh? How about we swap skins for a week and then you get back to me._ )

“Has any fucker been giving you grief again?” asks Thor.

“Leave it," Loki warns.

“You know you can tell me.”

Loki rubs his temples and mutters something about hoping for some supernatural entity to grant him patience.

“Loki, if they’re bullying you, you have to…”

“They’re not, okay?" snaps Loki. "They’re leaving me alone. They heard you. They took you seriously. You saved the day. Thanks.” That's how gratitude sounds when it's sucking on lemons.

The barbed, sudden tirade leaves Thor taken aback for a second. 

“Okay. Uh, no problem," he tries, going for appeasing. Which is unusual, to say the least. Loki would have anticipated a snarl involving some form of "fuck you."

In any case, Thor isn't done yet. Loki can sense him looking for the right words and the final push to speak them out. Here it comes.

“Listen, Lo, I get that you… want to be your own man, and that’s cool, that’s great, but… But there are other ways to get respect besides letting a bunch of shits bash your head in. Don’t you think? And... and you’re my brother, goddammit. If I find out somebody wants to hurt you, I’m gonna step in, alright? End of. Not because I believe you can’t handle yourself, but because… Fucking hell, Lo, wouldn’t you do the same for me?”

Loki contemplates his hands, woven together on his lap. The fact is, he hadn’t for one second looked at it like that. And it shouldn't really change things, not really. It’s brotherly duty, key annoying word here being _duty_. But actually, when you put it like that... 

“I guess,” he grants, twisting his hands.

“Well, there you fucking go, then!” And Thor sounds so earnest, and also relieved. Like this is something that had been eating at him for some time. Hm.

“Thanks, I guess,” mutters Loki. And wants to beat himself immediately. That was plain old shitty. He tries again. “I mean, uh. Thanks." Okay, that was also pretty terrible. Third time lucky? (Just a whisper, but a solemn one.) "Thank you."

At least this time he sounded like he meant it.

“You’re welcome,” says Thor.

Silence. Not as awkward as it could be, by the way.

It’s getting late; it’s dark out there already. The glow of the TV throws strange shadows on their faces.

“Anyway, that girl I saw you with at the party,” says Thor.

“What about her,” says Loki, tensing up.

“Is it serious?”

“Serious,” Loki scoffs.

“I mean, are you dating or…?”

“No. There’s nothing,” he jumps. After a moment, he feels sort of compelled to expand on that, to make up for the snappy tone. (Not that something inside him is screaming about how good it feels to open his heart to a friendly ear or anything, nothing like that.) “We… We made out. A bit. But that’s it.”

“Aw.”

“Aw what,” says Loki icily. That was patronizing as fuck.

“For shame. She’s hot.”

Loki shrugs it off. “She was alright, but we didn’t click.”

That’s not technically a lie.

“What about Darcy?” insists Thor.

“What about Darcy?” sighs Loki.

“She’s very sexy.”

“She has a _boyfriend_ , Thor.” He uses the exhausted tone one hears from parents who've just been assaulted by the umpteenth "why?" by their tireless toddlers.

“Yeah, but if she didn’t…?”

“Oh my god, Thor!" snaps Loki. "She’s just a _friend!_ You know you can be friends with a girl without having to fuck her?"

“Okay, okay, sorry.”

"Can I fucking live? What’s with the fucking third grade? Lay off me!”

His brother raises his hands, in full surrender. It's meant to appease, but that tilt of his eyebrows is exactly the same as it's always been since Thor was twelve, and learned to let Loki have the last word to save himself the bother. It's basically _cheating,_ robbing Loki of the chance to make his point, to keep trying to win on his own merits. Leaves him all pumped up and no way to vent. It fucking sucks.

Anyway, Thor is not twelve anymore, but more importantly, Loki is not ten. So he grinds his teeth, closes his fists, and wills it to go.

The emptiness inside deals with that. Not even his anger lasts very long these days. No kindle left to burn.

“So, there’s no-one,” summarizes Thor, after a moment.

"Can you please drop it?"

“It’s just, you’re a good-looking guy, you’re cool, I just…”

“I’m not interested, okay?” snaps Loki, way too aggressively, alarmed at the raising fluster he can't control. He feels like he's slowly but surely been pushed into a corner of his own making. 

“At all?”

“What?”

“I mean, if that redhead and Darcy are not your type…”

“…What?" His heart is hammering. "What the hell are you on about?”

“Hey, it’s fine, okay? It’s fine with me.”

“What is fine.”

“What I mean is… You know what I mean.”

“No I fucking don’t.”

“I mean…” Thor sighs, struggling for words. Not that Loki can't fill in the blanks himself, but like hell he will. “I mean, that poster of Ewan McGregor in your room…”

“Can’t I just like the film?” he says. It's very weak, and he knows it. He's fucking shaking now.

“Yeah but… He’s uh, he’s very handsome."

“You think?” Loki snarks, trying to disguise his panic.

“Yeah, he’s hot,” says Thor, with a shrug meant to express nonchalance, but his eyes are shifty, trying to read Loki's reactions.

“I can get you a poster too I’m sure," he sneers. 

“Hey, Loki, I’m trying," says his brother softly. "Throw me a fucking line here. You know what I’m trying to say. Right? I’m saying it’s fine. It’s all good with me. Okay?”

The following silence is crackling with Loki's panic. He doesn't even know what he's so terrified about, but he is. Exposed, vulnerable, nowhere to hide, and no use running or dodging anymore.

"Loki?" Thor prods calmly, as if Loki was a cat hiding under his bed.

“I know what you’re trying to say,” murmurs Loki after a long time. And the delay alone was pretty revealing, wasn't it?

“Fine," says Thor. "Is that all?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.”

“Want a medal for not being a bigot or…?” Aggressive again.

“I don’t… I’m not expecting anything. I just wanted you to know that.”

“Fine, good. It’s all okay with you. Now I know. Awesome.” And the defensiveness behind that sarcasm was about as subtle as the Maginot line

His brother keeps quiet, lets Loki cool himself down. Oh. Loki had forgotten that Thor actually knows how to handle him, how to de-escalate situations. He's just not seen him try in a long while. Diplomacy takes more effort and is way less satisfying than open hostilities, isn't it? Not that Loki is free from guilt in that regard. They can split the blame for most of the grays in their mother's hair equally between the two of them.

In any case, Thor is trying, and he's trying hard. And Loki wants so bad to... Shit.

“I don’t even know,” he mutters, worrying at the hem of his t-shirt like a timid little boy.

“Know what?”

Deep, deep sigh.

“What I am.” That was hard.

“No?”

“I’ve tried.” That was even harder.

“What, boys?”

“And girls. It just… Nothing felt right.”

“You’ve… done it?”

“I said it didn’t feel right, weren’t you fucking listening?” 

“Hey, chill.”

“Sorry, not my favourite subject.”

“I see."

The silence between them is now fraught with tension. 

"With boys, how far have you…?” asks Thor.

“I said I don’t want to fricking talk about it.”

Thor nods thoughtfully. But he doesn't really drop it, he just changes tack.

“Does it bother you?” he asks.

“What.”

“That you, uh. That you don’t know. That nothing feels right.”

Loki is practically drowning now in a feeling of _dejà vu_. With it comes the real fear that it might not be very clever to talk about this.

“A little," he says anyway.

“It’s more common than you think, you know?”

“What is.”

“That phase.”

“Phase?”

“Not being sure. Not knowing.”

“Yeah? You had it too?” taunts Loki, skeptical.

“I did say everybody," says Thor.

Loki's eyes go wide.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

Okay, that’s news.

“Who…? What...? Have you… ?” he stutters, his brain imploding with visuals and ramifications.

“Have I done something?” guesses Thor, smiling genially, ignoring his growing blush with cavalier panache. “No. Well, yeah. Kids’ stuff, you know.”

“I really don’t.”

Thor laughs.

“Just, you know. Bit of fooling around.”

Loki is going to need details. He can’t possibly articulate the question, but the whole eyes-bulging-out-of-orbits thing surely ought to suffice.

“Playing around with dicks, okay?” confesses Thor, red as a beet now. “I was young.”

“Whose dick?”

“Oh my god, Loki…” Thor hides behind one big hand, which is pretending to rub away a headache. “Teammates. Fandral. Heimdall.”

“Oh my fuck!” Loki jumps in his seat. “Really?”

“Don’t go fucking telling anyone, okay?" warns Thor, but his tone doesn't have bad teeth. "It’s… it’s private.”

Loki sits back, eyes lost in space, reeling. He's going to need a while to process that.

“So anyway, like I was saying, it’s totally healthy and normal,” insists his brother.

“Do you still…?”

“Uh, no.”

“Why not?”

Thor thinks.

“I don’t know. I just... don’t. I don’t look for it, it hasn’t come up… I don’t know. I suppose it wasn’t about guys after all. I guess we were just... making do.”

Loki’s spirit sinks about as low as the basement.

“But hey, I’m young too," says Thor. "I don’t know what will happen, right? And you’ll figure it out too, whatever it is, when you’re ready.”

Loki is slumping on the couch, his mood darkening again by the second. 

“So they keep telling me,” he says, deflated. “But I just don’t see all these hoards of people wandering around questioning their sexuality or lack thereof. I feel like a freak.”

“Hey, don’t say that. You’re alright. Ok?”

The Exorcist-worthy eyeroll and the moody scoff signal Loki's clear skepticism.

“Heyyy, you’re not!” insists his brother, and he puts one heavy paw on Loki's shoulder, a little shake every now and then, for emphasis. “Listen to me, smurf, You Are Not A Freak, okay? There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You’re just fifteen. Everything feels like the end of the world at fifteen. You feel like the first and the last and the only and the worst, and then you grow up, and you see that everybody goes through the same stuff, and it’s not so bad, you’ll see.”

( _The same stuff, eh? Oh, brother, if only you knew._ )

“Look at you, at your wise old age of eighteen years and three months," says Loki.

“Exactly, old and wise," says Thor, smug. "Listen to your big bro.” He throws one arm around Loki’s neck and pulls him in for a noogie.

“Get offf…!” Loki twists and struggles (his stomach has suddenly turned upside down, blood rushing fast.)

With a chuckle, Thor lets go. Loki flattens his hair, heart pumping.

They sit side by side in silence, the first comfortable silence with his brother Loki remembers in god knows how long. It's nice.

“So why aren’t you out tonight?” he asks after a beat.

“I don’t have to go out every Saturday night, do I?”

Loki shrugs. “Guess not."

Thor rubs his eyes tiredly. Loki notices for the first time that he looks exhausted.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

“Ugh. Boring shit, really,” says Thor. “I mean, probably boring for you.”

Loki may be imagining it, but to him this sounded exactly as if Thor was reaching out, and is only waiting for a little encouragement. Loki doesn't want to sound too eager. He doesn’t jump on the opportunity. Instead, he sort of lets himself wander onto it casually.

“Try,” he offers.

“I don’t know. Girl problems.”

Loki goes into overdrive. He'll go fucking blue trying to refrain his breathing from becoming a short, anxious panting. 

“Things no good with Jane?” he says, on the virtual edge of his seat.

“Not that,” whispers Thor, like he's ashamed to speak any louder. "Well, that too."

Loki is going to fucking vibrate out of his body.

“Tell me,” he nudges, just a good brother offering a shoulder to cry on, nothing more.

“It’s kind of… Can I trust you?”

(Mother of god.) “Want me to pinky swear it?”

“Cross your heart,” grins Thor.

“And hope to die.”

Thor’s grin vanishes.

“Don’t say that."

For a moment, they lock eyes, and the air between them turns heavy as lead.

“Okay, I won’t say that,” says Loki softly.

Thor breaks it up, looks away.

The mood has turned. They can't possibly leave it here, can they? Not now, for god's sake!

“I won’t tell anyone anything,” promises Loki. “Go on.”

Thor is picking at his nails.

“There’s someone else that…” Thor turns and fixes him with a serious glare, bit manic around the edges. “I swear if you speak of this to anyone…”

“I won’t!”

Thor examines him for a beat through a severe squint. Loki opens his eyes wide, going for totally innocent and trustworthy. Thor's expression turns softer; he looks exhausted again.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he says. “It’s-it’s kind of unusual.”

“Unusual how.”

“Unusual as in I’ve never even met her.”

Gasp. Oh my.

“Right,” says Loki, in a whisper to disguise he's fucking breathless.

“It’s just… I’ve been, uh, talking to someone. Online,” confesses his brother.

“Right,” says Loki. (Take it easy boy. Think of something to say. Anything.) “Not that unusual.”

“I guess not. But…  I don’t know. I’m a mess over her. Without having even met her. And that’s half the problem, really. I mean, how real is it when you’ve only ever talked online? I don't even know how her voice sounds. I have her pic but for what I know it might not even be her, right? And I’m just… I think about her all the time. It’s like— we click. You know what I mean? Like we just get each other? And when we talk, I feel… I don’t know. She knows about Jane. And I feel like I’m cheating on them both. And Jane is… I mean, Jane is real, and I don’t even know what this girl is like in real life, and yet, if I had to choose… Shit, what a fucking mess.” He folds in on himself, hugging his stomach as if he had a belly ache. “I’m screwed, aren’t I?” He chuckles, self-deprecating.

Loki would like to pet his hair one hell of a lot right now.

“Slightly,” he says. He's the one picking his nails now. His hands are shaking.

“You know what I mean?” says Thor.

“Vaguely."

Thor laughs. He leans back again, rubbing his stomach. Deep exhale.

“Ever been in love?” he asks.

Every nerve in Loki’s body fires up. He gulps. If Thor wasn’t so distracted with his own headaches, he’d definitely catch on to Loki’s nerves, dodgy as fuck.

“I’m not sure,” whispers Loki, feeling his face burn. Thank goodness for the dim light. “Maybe.”

“It’s a fucking madhouse, isn’t it?” chuckles Thor.

_(Oh, you have no idea, brother.)_

“Yeah.” Harrumph. “Ssso. Uh. You-you’re saying you’re in love with Jane but maybe this girl…?”

“No,” says Thor. “No.”

“No?”

Thor rubs his brow, his eyes, like this is all giving him a massive migraine. “I think I’m in love with Sorry.”

Loki’s stomach takes a plunge.

“Is that her name?” His voice is a fucking squeak.

“That’s what I call her. Sorry. Sorrow. I don’t know her real name.”

Shit, there’s a lump of soft butter where Loki’s heart used to be.

“Some name,” mutters Loki, just to avoid being completely quiet.

“Suits her.”

“Why?”

“Just does.” Exhale, more face rubbing. “Anyway,” sighs Thor. “I’m FUBAR.”

“I’d say so, yeah,” says Loki, still with very little voice.

“And she’s fucking broken up with me too,” adds his brother, with one more bitter chuckle.

“Has she?”

“Yeah. Because she’s got feelings for me. Jesus. What the hell are we even doing.” Huff. He definitely looks like he’s not getting much sleep, or whatever sleep he’s getting is rather on the crappy side. “I’ve never felt like this before. Like she's something of mine. Sorrow, I mean. Even though I've never even heard her voice! And still, I want to... I feel like I owe it to her to look after her. She's so lonely. And she’s out there, and she’s not okay, and I can’t help her, and it's so... I feel helpless. And I... I don’t feel like this for Jane. Shit, I don’t know what to do.”

Forget his heart, the entirety of Loki’s innards are now runny dairy. He’s going to fucking cry, but it’s definitely not sadness he's being inundated with.

And he looks at the sagging line of his brother’s magnificent shoulders, his fierce blue eyes lost in space, and the face Loki thought he knew by heart amazes him as if he’s seeing it for the first time. He’s fucking aching with the need to hug his brother.

The crazy need to do an extremely silly thing suddenly overwhelms him.

He shouldn't. He mustn't.

It won't amount to anything, right? It's just... a bit of fun.

Shit, he can't fucking help himself. 

“Thor, I’m Sorry,” he whispers. The enormity of the confession leaves him more shaken than he thought. It's not fun at all.

“What for,” chuckles his brother softly.

Gone miles above Thor's head, of course, how could it not? Loki was counting on it. So why does he feel so... disappointed?  And then there's a deep shiver, a horrible chill in Loki's bones thinking... Fuck, what if Thor did actually find out? Loki, you _moron_.

“I'm sorry that I’m not much help,” he says quickly.

Thor returns a little smile, though sincere, and warm. The warmest, most loving look he's addressed Loki in years.

“You helped,” he says, and elbows Loki's side. Ouch. “Was good talking without trying to kill each other for once, wasn’t it?”

Loki smiles. He was going for a smirk, but it inevitably turns into the softest, goofiest, sappiest fucking grin.

"For once, yeah."

“Let’s find something to watch, come on,” says Thor, upbeat, and grabs the remote. “Hey! The Goonies! Haven’t seen it in ages.”

“Me neither.”

“Want to?”

Loki nods, smiles.

“Sure.”

 

 

Loki breezes into his bedroom about an hour and a half later as if treading on fluffy pink clouds. He’s going to break into song in a moment, and he sure feels like blue birds are already fluttering around his head. That was _awesome,_ the best time he's had in _ages_. They've been laughing like a couple of idiots; they spoke the most epic lines out loud; and when Bran and Mickey hug, there was an expression on Thor's face that almost made Loki fucking whimper. 

Lying on his bed, happy, it doesn’t even feel sick, or bad, or weird. It might all fall on his head later and crush him, but he’ll let himself swim in it for a little while. Right now, it’s neither good nor bad. It’s simply the way things are. He’s in love with his brother, and that's that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have been so kind with Asshole though, bless you.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Temptation. The only way to get rid of it is to fall into it.

 

“Hey, snap out of it!”

Loki blinks with Darcy snapping her fingers right in front of his nose.

“That guy must be really something…” she muses.

“What? Who?”

“Your e-bae. Oh my god I punned.”

“What?”

“Oh Loki, deary. Nothing. Just… Nothing.” And she walks on, laughing.

It’s true that Loki has been a bit distracted as of late. _Bit distracted_ being an understatement. No points for guessing where his mind is constantly roaming lost these days. To wit: he’s in love with his brother, which, whoa, okay, not a minor deal, that, surely enough and more than enough to have one’s thoughts absorbed, to say the least. But that’s not all. The whole of it is that his brother… Oh, sweet mother of god, his brother is in love with _him_.

And a case could be made for refining that statement and adding nuance and shaving some of the sharpest edges but, when push comes to shove… _Thor is in fricking love with him._ _Him_ being this playful, sweet, only occasionally self-loathing other person he is when he writes (and thinks, and acts, and _feels_ ) under Sorrow’s name. When he puts on Sorrow's mask, and drops the moods and the grumps, and the armor, and the wall of silence. When he opens up and _shares_ , shares what he likes, what he thinks, what he wants. When he teases and flirts, when he feels comfortable and at ease and just lets go. When he is being… well, when Loki’s being himself.

 _Of fucking course_ Loki is distracted. And simultaneously wretched and treading on clouds, Schrödinger’s heart! His love is reciprocated/His love is impossible. Thor’s love is real (he loves the real him)/Thor’s love is based on false pretenses (that the one he loves has a female body and is not a blood relation texting from the room next door). What a mindfuck, what a conundrum. What a roller-coaster. And poor Loki. Ecstatic one minute, shattered the next. What he wants in the palm of his hand, and at the same time forever behind reality-proof unbreakable glass. He’ll never get what he wants/He already has it.

His phone weighs and strains in the back pocket of his jeans, forever making its presence known, and he likes it like this; like an amulet or a charm, a talisman able to conjure up another life, a portal into a place where good things await him. The potential is there, but he’s forbidden himself from reaching for it. Because nothing good ever came from wanting to get too lost in fantasy land. Because every time he opens up that goddamn chat, he digs a deeper grave for himself. For his heart, _and_ for his actual physical murdered body, should Thor ever find out. And yet. And yet… He misses talking to Storm. He misses being Sorrow. He misses the dream, this illusion they’ve cast. And all he has to do is slide his fingertip over one fucking bit of screen and it will all exist again, it will all be there for him. Temptation bites him harder and harder everyday.

The evenings are the toughest. When he's done all his schoolwork, and some extra, and dinner is done, and he tries to read or play but nothing manages to keep his attention long, and he just good for lying there moping. Time crawls. His thoughts can't seem to go far from his goddamn phone, the fucking app. It's a talisman alright. And it haunts him.

And sometimes he can't resist. He opens the app and looks at the last messages from Storm. He yearns so bad, it carves a hollow within that bleeds and aches and yowls. _This is insane, you moron,_ he scolds himself. _Insane, sick, impossible, sick, sick, sick, it can only end up in tears_. He tries to patch up the throbbing emptiness with these red flashing warning signs. It does precisely fucking _nothing_ for him. Except that the flashing lights get dimmer and dimmer every day, the strength of the warnings fading as the words become meaningless doodles.

Acting normal around his brother, in this mental and emotional landscape, is a growing challenge. Big surprise. If Thor’s presence fills everything, his absence sucks all the light from the world. There is no peace. It doesn’t matter how sternly Loki tells himself to keep it real. If Thor walks by him with a smile and ruffles his hair, Loki’s heart sets off and hope overcomes all his defenses. If Thor stares at him just so, Loki’s mind goes into overdrive trying to read in it signs and clues. He _knows_ there aren’t any, he knows it perfectly well. That if Thor should ever get an inkling of what's going on, Loki would not have to look for clues and signs. His brother does not do subtle. He would just turn up in his room and beat him to a pulp. Oh Loki, you're fucking pathetic. And suicidal. But he can't fucking help it, he looks at Thor and he feels like he was possessed by Sorrow’s ghost. If only Loki could possess a Sorrow body…

Shit, he just thought that, didn’t he? He just wished himself into a girl’s body that his brother ( _his fucking brother)_ could be attracted to. Attracted. As in. You know. Gods, oh gods, he’ll never make it to the end of term. He’ll never make it to the summer. He’s going to lose what few wits he still has over this. Not that there are that many left.

“Looo-keeeeeh…!” honks Darcy in his ear.

“What!” he snaps, startled, and not just a little bit annoyed.

She smiles from ear to ear, her eyes full of warmth and affection. She’s a pain in the ass, she is. But she likes him, god knows why. And so, Loki’s irritation when he’s around her too long builds up and dissolves several times a day. When she clings to her arm and kisses his shoulder, he can’t help but smile, and pat her hand.

 

__________

 

The noises from Thor’s room have gone alternatively from exalted talk to laughter to agitated loud disagreement several times now for a couple of hours. It’s doing Loki’s head in. Tony Stark is in there, working with his brother on a science thing that must be as urgent and critical as Project Manhattan, judging from the intensity of the discussion in there. Something to do with climate and electricity. Loki bets Thor’s schoolmates have no idea what an egghead he can be, how very into this sciency stuff he is, how excited he gets over it. He just doesn’t look the type, does he?

Anyway, they’re getting on his tits. Not that his own work is urgent; he _could_ have just given up and waited for a quieter time, but he’s stubborn. He’d rather huff and scoff and righteously bang on the wall from time to time. It’s satisfying to obtain an immediate hush from behind the wall, rather than the usual “fuck off, shithead!”

Anyway, the noises have changed now. Chairs rolling, steps on the floorboards, muted chuckles. When his brother’s door opens, he hears Thor’s husky voice mumbling, and steps down the corridor, bound for the bathroom probably. And then more steps, and a soft knock on his door.

“Anyone in?”

It’s Stark.

“It’s open.”

Tony’s face pops through the crack in the door.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“May I?”

Loki shrugs.

The crack widens, Tony steps in, hands in his pockets. He’s wearing his black paste glasses. At school, he never does. He has a kind, childish face, soft rounded cheeks, a few pimples, bright, inquisitive dark eyes currently scanning the contents of Loki’s room. He looks like a right nerd.

“Cool place,” he says, hands in his pockets -overly baggy, like his t-shirt. Are the 80’s back in fashion already? “Need help with that?” He gestures at the spread of papers and open books on Loki’s desk.

“Not really,” says Loki.

“Okay.”

It’s a very awkward atmosphere. Even Loki can tell Tony’s trying to find things to say or do, anything, to justify being where he is. And oh my god, is he… Is he actually _blushing_?

“Are you done with my brother?” asks Loki, to fill the silence. Weird question. He flinches at the sound of it. Talking about awkward nerds.

“Uh, for tonight, yeah,” says Tony brightly, happy for the cue. “We still got a lot more work to do, but we’re getting there.”

“Right.”

“I mean, the design stuff is mainly over, now it’s the hands-on phase.”

“Okay.”

“We-we’ll probably need to use my dad's workshop. You’ve never been to my dad's workshop.”

“No.”

“Maybe you’d like to see it, someday?” Bright pink now. “It’s pretty cool. I have presses, welders, the works. It’s really cool.” And he hears his own clumsy words and hesitant tone and cringes, poor dear. He looks like he wants to slap his own face, or bury it in the closest available sandpit.

Loki bites in his lips to contain a smile. He thinks that wasn’t so bad. Okay, yeah, it was. But not pathetic. It was… cute?

“Maybe,” he says.

The door opens wide.

“Hey,” says Thor icily, staring from Tony to Loki, and back to Tony, with a very dark look. The “oi oi oi, what’s going on here” is implicit, yet very loud.

“We were just…” says Tony, and he can’t finish the sentence for some reason (that he's been caught red-handed, maybe), and it’s oh so much worse.

“Tony wants to show me his workshop,” says Loki sweetly, little shit that he is.

Tony blushes purple. Thor’s glare becomes a murderous squint. (This is so much fun.)

“You need that ride or not, Stark?” barks Thor.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Uh, bye Loki.”

“Bye bye…” Loki wiggles his fingers, meets Thor’s dark glower with a blameless smile. Oh, that protective asshole display has added ten good years to Loki’s life. It felt _amazing_ on so many levels, most of them profoundly wrong.

"Watch yourself," he hears Thor as they go down the stairs.

“What? What did I do?” Tony is protesting.

"Don't even," Thor is saying.

Noises at the front door.

Loki pops his head out the window. Tony and Thor are walking to the car, and it’s late, and the street is quiet, and Loki can hear every word they say.

 

“Back the hell off, he’s fifteen,” Thor is saying, menacing.

"When is his birthday?" asks Tony as he climbs in the car. The tone is light, as if it's meant as a joke, or meant to walk a fine line thereabouts at least.

But Thor clearly, aggressively doesn't find it funny. Loki gets a zenithal view of his brother's furious, indignant glower. A moment later, he gets inside the car with a door slam, and they speed away with a screech.

Loki sits at his desk, and spins slowly on his chair, again, and again, and again. Whoa.

 

The strange scene is still on his mind when he’s texting with Darcy in bed that evening.

 

_Queen Darce: omg Stark? that nerd lol_

_Queen Darce: nerdy but cute_

_Queen Darce: & his dad is totes loaded _

_Queen Darce: u know that right?_

_Lo: don’t know don’t care_

_Queen Darce: minted i tellya_

_Queen Darce: his own jet heated penthouse swimming pool offices in downtown manhattan u name it_

_Lo: why does tony live over here then?_

_Queen Darcy: in that colonial mansion over in palisades that looks like the white house u mean?_

_Queen Darcy: no idea_

_Queen Darcy: why don’t u ask him out on a date and find out?_ _( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_

_Queen Darce: u should snatch him now before he inherits so it doesn’t seem ur only doing it for the money_

_Queen Darce: so he doesnt make u sign a prenup or someth_

_Lo: *u’r_

_Queen Darce: nerd_

_Queen Darce: see? u guys are meant 4 each other_

_Lo: anyway i’m sure it’s just T being paranoid_

_Lo: and wanting me 2 stay lonely and miserable 4 all time_

_Queen Darce: aw boo_

_Queen Darce: what i was saying MARRY STARK make ur move now get ur hands on that booty_

_Queen Darce: nudge wink (double meaning. Booty. Get it?)_

_Lo: *rolls eyes*_

_Queen Darce: its a damn fine booty btw have u checked? round and plump yum_

_Lo: help_

_Queen Darce: honestly it is he’s smol but has everything one needs_

_Queen Darce: & those fleshy lips hmmm & his skin is smooth as a babys_

_Lo: give or take a few pimples_

_Queen Darce: let he who is without those fucking shits cast the first stone_

_Lo: u really like him dont u?_

_Lo: why dont YOU ask him out?_

_Queen Darce: sweetie i’d eat him for breakfast_

_Queen Darce: he’s too precious for the QUEEN_

_Lo: unlike ian the Destroyer_

_Queen Darce: lol he has hidden depths my boy_

_Queen Darce: back to stark. he seems v sweet too_

_Queen Darce: nerds really need to keep up their game_

_Queen Darce: 2 compete with the jocks i mean_

_Queen Darce: he can’t grab u and fuck u against the wall so_

_Queen Darce: he’ll seduce u with his cultivated conversation buy u flowers & take u to a fancy restaurant then the theatre or the ballet or something & then bang! amazing head in the backseat of his limo _

_Lo: (sickly emoji)_

_Lo: is that what ian did?_

_Queen Darce: lol_

_Queen Darce: except for the fancy restaurant and the ballet and the limo (^_-)_

_Queen Darce: but i had 2 teach him 2 give good head_

_Queen Darce: he’s proficient now_

_Lo: stop_

_Queen Darce: no i mean it he’s a wiz i almost wish 2 share him so that the world knows what a fine teacher i am in the arts of love_

_Lo: pls i won’t be able 2 look at him ever again_

_Queen Darcy: without thinking about his face between my legs?_

_Lo: DARCY!!!_ DX

_Queen Darce: u just make it so fun for me sweetie XD_

_Lo: anyway i bet he’s not even remotely interested anyway_

_Lo: tony_

_Lo: i bet it’s all in Thor’s head_

_Queen Darce: ooooooh it’s TONY now is it????_

_Queen Darce: tony and loki under a tree..._

_Lo: Daaaaarce_ (>_<)

 

Loki’s phone gives a buzz. The chatting app, a little green dot. Flagged message. Oh. Oh dear. Loki’s heart is going like a drill hammer.

He checks it out, of course he does. How could he resist.

 

_Storm99 has joined the chat_

 

_Storm99: princess_

_Storm99: pls forgive me i know i shouldn’t be doing this_

_Storm99: but i need to tell u something_

_Storm99: i’ve left j._

_Storm99: i cant stop thinking about u_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: sorry i said i’d leave u alone but_

_Storm99: it’s killing me_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: i’ll b waiting bby_

 

Loki looks at the fucking screen in the palm of his hand and the storm of emotions inside doesn’t even bear describing. He’s flushed and overjoyed and angry and relieved and… And unable to keep so many plates spinning.

 

_Lo: Darce gotta go tlk ltr_

_Queen Darce: i hope this is about ur e-hunk_

_Queen Darce: get it bby_

_Queen Darce: tlk 2morrow SMOOCH_

 

God, she’s exhausting.

Loki contemplates the situation again.

In the end, he’ll have to admit there was never any real fight.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654 has joined the chat_

 

_Storm99: princess! :))))))_

_Storm99: omg bby i’m so glad to see u_

_Storm99: how r u bby?_

 

Loki cuts to the chase.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i never asked u 2 leave j_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: i know i know but it was the right thing 2 do_

_Storm99: for her sake too_

_Storm99: I’ve fucked up enough already_

_Storm99: with both of u_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what did u tell her what reason did u give_

_Storm99: the truth_

_Storm99: that i had been up 2 no good with other girls online_

_Storm99: that she deserved better_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what did she say_

_Storm99: she was willing 2 talk it over_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: why didn’t u?_

_Storm99: want 2 have a guess?_

 

Loki sits back in his bed, looks at the ceiling, and is about to have a fit of giggles. So he got what he wanted in the end, in a way, but that was _so_ not the plan. Jane was supposed to kick his brother’s ass all around town, not… ask Thor to _talk it over._ Thor fucked up his own relationship _himself_ , and he didn’t learn any lessons the hard way. That was _not_ the plan at all, in general. Loki’s failed on every single fucking level, what an unmitigated disaster of a human being that he is.

But he _could_ still teach Thor a lesson, couldn’t he? About the dangers of sex chatting strangers online. Dangers Thor can’t even begin to fathom. He could fucking ruin his brother’s life, exactly as he had planned, more thoroughly than any stupid plan Loki could ever come up to, and fuck up his mind too while he's at it. All he has to do is tell him the awful truth. There, revenge is served. Some form of it at least. Oh, Loki boy, whatever forces are running your life are fucking hilarious. They’ve taken a page out of the old book -how does it go?- _Give them what they want, but never the way they expect_. Dear god, what a fucking mess.

The giggles have dried up. Suddenly, none of this is funny anymore.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: idk how 2 feel about this_

_Storm99: u don’t have 2 feel anything_

_One_for_sorrow5456: no?_

_Storm99: it’s not about u_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: ? really_

_Storm99: i mean it’s not ur fault_

_Storm99: i mean it felt like it didn’t really matter until u came along_

_Storm99: what i was doing_

_Storm99: but it did matter didn’t it?_

_Storm99: it was me being a shit lying and cheating_

_Storm99: even if i didn’t want 2 call it that_

_Storm99: breaking up with j was my choice_

_Storm99: and what i did online that was my fuck up originally_

_Storm99: so it’s not ur fault_

_Storm99: u don’t have 2 feel anything about it_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: except know that i choose u_

_Storm99: if that makes u feel anything_

 

(Loki is totally _not_ screaming into his pillow right now. Not even softly and in a pitch almost beyond the range of human ears.)

 

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u know it does_

_Storm99: princess i’m over the moon 2 hear u_

_One_for_sorrow5456:_

_One_for_sorrow5456: me 2_

_One_for_sorrow5456: i’ve been thinking a lot_

_One_for_sorrow5456: i missed u so much_

_Storm99: god me too_

_One_for_sorrow5456: all the things i said_

_One_for_sorrow5456: still true_

_One_for_sorrow5456: i can’t protect myself from this from what i feel 4 u_

_One_for_sorrow5456: what i feel WITH u_

_Storm99: neither do i_

_One_for_sorrow5456: it scares me_

_One_for_sorrow5456: it’s a lot more complicated than u think_

 

God, Loki, you have to try. You have to come clean. Or come as close to clean as possible. That Sorrow is not being honest about how fucked up this situation really is. That she’s afraid Storm is going to get massively burned in it too, not just herself. That she’s way in over her head, they both are. That it’s not just for her sake, but Thor’s, that they should run away from each other as fast as they can.

But how. How. What can he possibly say? Should he make up a family of religious fundamentalists that would kill both Sorrow and Storm if they ever found out? Or that Sorrow is dying from something terminal and only has months to live and…? No, don’t even. That would be awfully poor taste, to say the least.

What? What can he possibly…?

Before he can gather the courage, or ideas, Storm storms in.

 

_Storm99: i know u’r younger and i know this online thing has caveats but_

_Storm99: but a lot of people have found each other this way and this is how it feels for me exactly how it feels_

_Storm99: that we’ve found each other_

_Storm99: u know what i mean_

 

Oh, god. All of Loki’s gods. And a few more he’s gonna borrow from whatever religion that has some to spare. He’s choking.

 

_One_for_sorrow5456: yeah_

_One_for_sorrow5456: i feel the same_

_One_for_sorrow5456:_

_One_for_sorrow5456: so what do we do_

_Storm99: idk bby_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: listen i know this is crazy we haven’t even met but_

_Storm99: u have no idea how bad it’s been believing i’d never get 2 speak 2 u again_

_One_for_sorrow5456:_

_One_for_sorrow5456: yes i do_

_One_for_sorrow5456: what u think it’s been like over at my end?_

_Storm99: <333 _

_Storm99: well there u go then_

_Storm99: if it hurts let’s not_

_Storm99: simple_

_One_for_sorrow5456: not simple not simple at all_

_One_for_sorrow5456: i’m scared of this, of where it’s going_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: me too_

_Storm99: never felt this way before_

_Storm99: maybe we can face this together?_

_Storm99: one day at a time? figure something out?_

_One_for_sorrow5456:_

_One_for_sorrow5456: i want 2_

_One_for_sorrow5456: we shouldn’t_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: what scares u so much that it can’t be real?_

_Storm99: we could make it real_

_Storm99: we could meet irl_

_Storm99: where u at?_

 

Loki’s stomach heaves. Shit, oh shit. Time to bring up the religious fundamentalist family. And have them live in a remote scientific outpost in the Arctic Circle somewhere.

 

_One_for_sorrow5456: no_

_Storm99: why not_

 

He’s panting, in terror. Scrambling for an answer in his brain as his innards threaten to turn inside out.

 

_One_for_sorrow5456: early days don’t u think?_

 

And that’s the best he could come up with? What a moron.

 

_Storm99: hey i’m not asking 2_

_Storm99: u know_

_Storm99: i’m not asking for anything from u ok? not a single thing_

_Storm99: just in case u thought, u know_

_Storm99: that’s not the reason_

 

Loki spots the chance and seizes it with both hands. _Flirting_.

 

_One_for_sorrow5456: aw shame_

_One_for_sorrow5456: & here i was hoping u were just trying 2 take advantage of me _

One_for_sorrow5456: _make some untoward advances_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: goodness me mr. storm how very shocking!_

_Storm99: lol_

_Storm99: never on the first date_

_One_for_sorrow5456: who made that rule someone from sex & the city i bet. fuck it _

_Storm99: lol_

_Storm99: srsly now_

_Storm99: we should just sit face 2 face and find out if what we have here is real_

_Storm99: before we sink in it completely and then we meet and find out we don’t click_

_Storm99: it will hurt so much more if we wait_

_Storm99: we should get it over and done with_

 

In his room, in the dark, Loki sighs.

 

_One_for_sorrow5456: too late for that_

_One_for_sorrow5456: it would break my heart already_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: yeah mine 2 actually_

_Storm99:_

_One_for_sorrow5456: seriously pls don’t ask me that_

_One_for_sorrow5456: don’t ask me to meet irl_

_Storm99: but why_

_One_for_sorrow5456: bc it would ruin everything_

_Storm99: ruin it how_

_One_for_sorrow5456: just trust me it would_

_One_for_sorrow5456: i mean there’s nothing i’d like more but_

_One_for_sorrow5456: but it’s just impossible_

_One_for_sorrow5456: i really wish it wasn’t_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: i’m willing to travel 2 u and keep it a distance thing if u want_

_Storm99: and i’d b faithful i fucking swear on my mom’s life i would_

_Storm99: i swear it bby do u believe me?_

_Storm99: i know my track record is dodgy at best but_

_One_for_sorrow5456: it’s not that_

_Storm99: do u believe me?_

_One_for_sorrow5456: it’s not the point_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: i looked it up after u turn 16 it’s legal in my state_

_Storm99: when’s ur birthday?_

 

Loki snorts at his brother's magnificent, shameless hypocrisy. Only a couple of hours ago he was going to kill Tony Stark over something like this.

But he's not in the mood for a laugh. Instead, a deep, deep sigh, and a growing urge to weep.

 

_One_for_sorrow5456: pls can we just_

 

Suddenly, an idea. And a brilliant one, if he may say so himself.

 

_One_for_sorrow5456: this is still hard 4 me_

_One_for_sorrow5456: the physical part i mean_

_One_for_sorrow5456: maybe if it gets too real i’ll clam up_

_One_for_sorrow5456: it feels good now but if we push it_

_One_for_sorrow5456: what if it gets too much_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: i thought u were feeling more comfortable with me_

_One_for_sorrow5456: and i am but_

_One_for_sorrow5456:_

_One_for_sorrow5456: can we forget about it and keep things as they are_

_One_for_sorrow5456: please_

_One_for_sorrow5456: it means so much 2 me what we have now_

_One_for_sorrow5456: i don’t want to spoil it_

_One_for_sorrow5456: don’t want 2 lose it_

_One_for_sorrow5456:_

_One_for_sorrow5456: please_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: of course_

_One_for_sorrow5456:_

_One_for_sorrow5456: u mad?_

_Storm99: no bby not mad_

_Storm99: disappointed frustrated but i totally understand_

_Storm99: and u’r the boss here u’r always the boss ok?_

_Storm99: whatever u say goes_

_Storm99: always_

_Storm99: i promise_

 

Loki chokes, and does the fair thing.

 

_One_for_sorrow5456: if u’r not happy about this we can quit_

_Storm99: no_

_Storm99: no i don’t want 2 quit_

_Storm99: it’s the last thing i want pls bby_

_Storm99: sorry i got so pushy_

_Storm99:_

_One_for_sorrow5456: this won’t change it’s fair that i warn u and u understand_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: the meeting irl thing_

_One_for_sorrow5456: it can’t change_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: yeah i get it_

_One_for_sorrow5456: i'd understand_

_One_for_sorrow5456: u had an actual gf that u could actually be with and it wasn't enough 4 u_

_One_for_sorrow5456: u’r really ok with it?_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: i have 2 be_

_Storm99: i love u_

 

Loki drops the phone and covers his mouth with both hands. He was not ready.

 

_Storm99: if that’s all i get that’s all i get_

_Storm99: and i don’t lose hope that things may change 4 us in the future not gonna lie about that_

_Storm99: but now is now_

_Storm99: and if it never happens_

_Storm99: if i never get 2 meet u_

_Storm99: it will still b worth it_

_Storm99: i just know i don’t want 2 b without u_

 

Loki will in a minute hug his fucking phone tight to his chest and kiss it tenderly. He won’t be able to help it.

 

_One_for_sorrow5456: i love you too_

_Storm99: <3333333333333 _

_Storm99: thank u bby_

_One_for_sorrow5456: thank u?! wtf storm?_

_Storm99: lol_

_Storm99: i don’t know what 2 say_

_One_for_sorrow5456: then don’t say anything ;)_

_Storm99: bossy_

_One_for_sorrow5456: u have no idea_

_Storm99: lol_

_One_for_sorrow5456:_

_Storm99:_

_One_for_sorrow5456: ok_

_One_for_sorrow5456: so what now_

_Storm99: lol_

_Storm99: what u said we keep it like this_

_Storm99: can we do that bby?_

_Storm99: just talk if u want_

_One_for_sorrow5456:_

_One_for_sorrow5456: i don’t want just 2 talk_ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

_Storm99: XO_

_Storm99: u’r gonna b the death of me u know_

_One_for_sorrow5456: u want me 2 stop? the teasing i mean_

_One_for_sorrow5456: asking srsly_

_One_for_sorrow5456: don’t want 2 torture u or anything_

_Storm99: no it’s fine_

_Storm99: it’s ok more than ok_

_Storm99: i like doing this with u_

_One_for_sorrow5456: “this”?_

_Storm99: oral sex_ (^_-)

 

(Loki feels a shiver from the roots of his hair down to…)

 

_One_for_sorrow5456: more like typed but_

_Storm99: heh_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: actually what i want_

_Storm99: what i’d really want rn_

_Storm99: i wish i could hold u_

_Storm99: just hold u_

_Storm99: i want that so much_

 

Loki’s tears start falling hard, even as he’s smiling so much his lips are fucking straining. He looks towards the wall between his brother’s room and his, and a sob comes from deep inside, and nearly shatters him.

 

_One_for_sorrow5456: i wish u could  
_

_Storm99: <333_

_One_for_sorrow5456:_

_One_for_sorrow5456: what else do u really really want rn_ 3;‑>

_Storm99: lol_

_One_for_sorrow5456: tell me where ur hands are_

_Storm99: omg princess (#*_*#)_

_Storm99: where are urs?_

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki hates his profile pic in the chatting app. Thinking out of the box to solve that problem leads to new, rather exciting territories.

 

“Knock knock, are you decent?”

Blanching, Loki scrambles to find his clothes, in a state of absolute panic. He’s so flustered it takes him three attempts to put his feet in the right leg of his pants. Terrified, he realises his t-shirt is inside out, and that his mom is waiting, and that every second she is kept waiting makes everything so much worse, and that the t-shirt will have to stay as it is, _nuts_. And now he has to unbolt the door, which makes it all the more obvious that, indeed, he had bolted it, which screams _guilty!_ to high heaven. His forehead is covered in cold sweat, and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He ends up stuffing them in his pockets, and standing awkwardly in the middle of the room like a lemon.

“C-come in!”

Mom pushes the door open with her elbow, a basket of pressed and neatly folded clothes in her arms.

“A hand, please?” she asks.

Loki rushes to relieve her of her burden. His pile is on the right. His hands are trembling when he picks it up and sets it on the bed. All the while, mom has a vague, barely there smile, and sparkly eyes. She doesn’t look at him when she muses,

“Do I want to know?”

Blushing deep purple, but soothed on some level by the non-judging, humorous tone in her voice, he just says,

“Probably not.”

She chuckles softly.

“Don’t leave them hanging around, will you?” she says, picking up the basket again and gesturing with her head to the clothes.

“No, mom.”

One last sweet, fond, mischievous look from the door, like he was still the chubby five-year-old who pocketed sweets to pig out in the middle of the night and thought he was fooling everyone about it. Loki rolls his eyes dramatically as she shakes her head slowly and leaves, with a grin.

 

He pushes the door shut after her. And when he thinks she’s far enough, he bolts it again, with a deep, muffled sigh of relief, careful not to make one noise. That was close.

He grabs the phone, the murder weapon, where all the evidence is contained. He’s still shaking when he opens the photo file. There he is, posing naked in all his pasty, spindly glory. Two thirds of him actually, never above the shoulders. On show, mainly his skinny butt, part of his legs. He’s tried many configurations, looking for the right angle. Not good enough, just not good enough. He still looks like a boy-willowy, androgynous, but definitely a boy. That won’t do at all.

He plummets on the bed, deflated. Huff. He’s been trying for two hours now. He’s running out of ideas.

It’s just… Fucking look at this — _this_ being his profile in the dating app, the pic of Miss Honeytrap he pulled out of some stranger’s Instagram. So cute and perky, so light, such a nice, likeable girl. Neither too modest nor too prudish, playful with that fucking dog of hers, having a good time, and probably with lots of friends and a great life. Loki _hates_ her. Hates her to bits. He can’t fucking stand the sight of her. He hates that it’s her face and her body Storm is picturing in his head when they… And it grates on Loki more and more every day. He’s positively chafing at this point. He imagines Storm with his phone in one hand and his dick in the other while looking at that fucking picture, and he wants to fucking _kill_. Maim. Destroy.

So he needs to give Storm something _else_ to look at. But what? What might constitute a suitable replacement for Miss Honeytrap? It has to be something that manages to attract, and keep, Storm's attention. As in, a bit of skin. More specifically,  _Loki's_ skin. Gulps.

For his first attempt, Loki took his t-shirt off and took a photo of his middle while sucking his belly in, hoping for a waistline. Terrible idea, terrible. Even after shaving his happy trail, that's a boy's stomach through and through. And what's worse: his belly button. They’re pretty unique, individual things, aren’t they? What if Thor recognized it?

So try again, this time from the back.

Slightly better. It’s smooth enough, and though lean and toned, it's not overly muscular. He tries a few poses, which is how he finds out that sticking his butt out and arching his back makes him seem a tad more curvy. But the jeans are really getting in the way of the whole effort somehow. They look like boy’s jeans. No idea what the difference is, but they do. So Loki kicks them off. Which means, of course, that he needs to drop his underwear too. More gulps. And this is how Loki ended up stark bollock naked in the middle of his room, trying to take one single passable naughty selfie, when his mom knocked on the door.

He examines the results of his efforts with frustration. Damn, if only his arm was two meters long, or if only he had a stupid selfie stick. In the mirror he manages something more or less convincingly feminine, but in the pic it just refuses to happen. What do you know, Loki is _too manly._ Ain’t that a laugh.

In any case, they're not good enough. In no way are these sexy or suggestive enough. They're simply no match for the charming Miss Honeytrap, damn her. Oh, how Loki loathes her. Cursed be the day he found her fucking Instagram. 

 

He doesn’t hear the doorbell. He does hear his mother bellowing from downstairs.

“Loki! Darcy’s here!”

“Be a minute!” he hollers back.

He throws on the clothes he picked earlier when Darcy called to suggest a trip to the mall. Bit of hair fluffing, quick appraisal in the mirror—acceptable. Then he hops down the stairs, with only one quick look at his brother’s bedroom door. Which is shut, even though he is not in there. He’s at Stark’s, again. He’s been spending a lot of time over at Stark Sr.’s workshop, intent on winning at the science fair this year with their ultra-secret project. (And Loki is supposed to be the nerd in the family, oh my god.)

It has brought with it a sharp decline in the brotherly soirées they had been having as of late, not enough of them to become routine, but certainly enough to create a craving. It’s back to normal really, when one thinks about it, but it sucked then and it sucks now just the same.

It’s a bit of a mindfuck, actually, for Loki. Because Thor doesn’t have time for his kid bro, but he certainly has it for Sorrow. He scrapes up at least an hour almost every evening to chat with her, and more than chat if the slightest sliver of a chance should arise. So it comes down to a situation in which Loki could be _jealous of himself. Wot_ …?

And you know what, yes it’s a mindfuck, but does Loki even care about being split in two at this point? Does he agonize about the cruel dichotomy, torn between his kid brother self and his cyber girlfriend self? Nah, fuck it. Take it as it comes, be grateful for it. And does he obsess much about how fucking crazy and sick everything is anymore, about the incest and the pure insanity of it? Uh, not really. And he sometimes sort of thinks he _should_ be at the very least alarmed, but he isn’t. The guilt, the shame. He just isn’t feeling it. What can he do about it? Are there pills he can take for that? Should he grab a belt and self-flagellate after every chat, just to make sure he never forgets how fucked up this is, and suffers appropriately for it? Listen, if the one thing is outrageous and demented, so is the other. He’d rather not fucking suffer right now, thank you very much. So he just goes with the flow, and if this happens to end in a cascade falling off the side of the earth, so fucking be it. He has stuff to do before they get there.

 

Saturday morning at the mall with Darcy. Busy, but tolerable. Darcy totally neeeeeds new pants, they have a sale at the make-up shop, she wants a pair of platforms to go with her skinny jeans, she saw this _awesome_ t-shirt the other day with a massive skull made with sequins, she _absolutely_ _has_ to spend this two-for-one voucher she got for nail polish because it expires this weekend...

“Yo! Earth to Loki!”

Loki blinks awake with Darcy snapping her fingers one inch away from his nose. It’s a bad habit she’s into.

“What! I was listening!” he protests.

She’s shaking her head with a fond, patronizing smile on her face.

“You’re hopeless, you know? Kaput. End of. This guy Stormy-boy has done you in good and proper. I mean, imagine you did actually meet him in person? RIP Loki, poor Loki no mo’.”

Loki doesn’t say a word, but the silly grin spreading on his lips is pretty eloquent.

“Anyway, like I was saying.” She resumes her extended, emphatic summary of her plan of action for the day, interspersed with snippets of her latest spat with boyfriend Ian, and they walk on.

And all of a sudden, Darcy grabs his arm.

“Oh my god, I’m deaded, look at that!”

It’s a female underwear shop. As in, a _lingerie_ shop. The kind of establishment Loki’s made a point _not_ to look at all his life, lest people should think he was a pervert (hah, the blazing irony!). Darcy’s looking in awe at the shop window display, where a gray, hairless, featureless, size 0 mannequin models a black ensemble that blends wet-look fabric with lace and straps; she drags Loki into the shop tugging with determination at his arm.

 

“So? What do you think?” says Darcy two minutes later, holding the two-piece set over his clothes in front of her in the mirror, bra and knickers. “It says kinky but classy. It’s so _me_ I’m about to have an out-of-body experience.”

Loki chuckles; he actually likes her quite a bit, to be fair. She looks in the mirror, probably picturing herself in those knickers and bra, and Loki finds himself doing the same, envying for a moment his friend's abundant, sinuous curves. She complains often that they don’t make clothes for her, and she's probably right, but when she does find something that fits, she looks like a 1950's Hollywood starlet, all woman.

“Yeah, nice,” is all Loki has to say.

“Loving the enthusiasm,” she says. “Oh, there, the fitting rooms.”

While she tries the thing on, Loki finds a seat next to another two stranded male sidekicks, also trying to seem nonchalant and unaffected in the presence of so many feminine undergarments. Why are they so terrifying? The three of them look positively intimidated.

Loki's found a safe place to put his eyes in the pyjama section, just in front. But hanging beside the Snoopy and Minnie Mouse comfy cotton sets is a display of… what’s the name? Negligés? Lacy, semi-transparent little things, some utterly sheer, others with tactical coverage, some paired with vintage-style silky shorts, others paired with skimpy pants, others with barely-there thongs. Oh so enticing, so suggestive, so _feminine_.

Wait.

“Nah, I don’t think I’m gonna buy it,” Darcy is saying, emerging from the fitting rooms in a flurry. “The wet-look part is pure plastic, no elasticity at all, it sticks like cling wrap; if I sweat, I’m going to lose skin peeling it off. And the straps dig in and make my hips look like a fucking muffin. …What are you staring at?”

Darcy follows his eyes. Loki looks away too late and blushes in three tones.

“Oh, nice. Not my style I don’t think, but…”

Loki’s fluster must have reached radioactive levels now, because look at Darcy's knowing, all-seeing smirk. She's quick as a whip, this one. When it comes to Loki, practically a telepath. It's scary.

“That dark green set,” Darcy whispers. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Nice, yeah,” says Loki, playing the fool.

“Is Stormy-boy into this too? Hmm, I love me a kinky one.”

“Shut up,” mumbles Loki, steam about to come whistling out of his ears like a boiling kettle.

Darcy perambulates casually to the display of lingerie. She picks size L off the rack, eyes Loki slyly, picks M. Holds it over herself in the mirror. Loki is right behind her.

“It’s super sexy,” she says.

“You think?” mutters Loki.

“He’d go completely out of his mind if he saw you in this,” she whispers, barely moving her lips.

Loki imagines himself wearing that. Correction, _tries_ to imagine himself wearing that. Can’t.

“Stockings,” says Darcy with determination. “We’ll need a pair of stockings too, and a garter belt of course.”

“Oh my god, Darcy…” he grumbles, rubbing his very hot, very red face.

“Yes? Problem?” she challenges, haughty.

“Surely you can’t be serious, I mean...”

“Of course I’m serious. And don’t call me Shirley.”

She winks at him and gets to work.

 

“Trust me,” she’s saying half an hour later, as she empties the contents of their shopping basket on the counter for Loki to pay. There is that dark green chemise with black velvet trimmings and lace inserts, a skimpy thong, one pair of stockings, and a garter belt.

There have been a couple of interesting moments. They’ve had to request a different size from a shop assistant’s who was adamant that L was the right size for Darcy.

“It’s not for me“, "It’s a present,” they had both uttered nervously at the same time, managing to look suspicious as fuck, even though their stories matched without even trying. The shop assistant had looked quite cagey, but they don’t pay her enough to deal with this shit.

“Well, keep the receipt then, in case she needs to change it. The bottom parts are non-returnable, sorry, so please make sure you get that right.”

Darcy smiled pleasantly, Loki’s released and internal _pheeew_.

 

Next stop, Darcy’s place. To be precise, Darcy’s narrow walk-in closet.

“Come oooon, let me see you, boo!” she’s calling. “I’m sure you look perfect. Come on, get out here.”

There is no mirror in here, so all Loki has to go on is what his eyes can reach. The green chemise clings to his body, black trimmings in vertical lines to recall the shape of a corset; nice and soft, sure, but so unlike anything he's ever worn, he doesn't even know how he feels about it; as for the black thong, it digs in the crack of his ass, making its presence known at all times. Finding the way to arrange his junk so that it wouldn't pour out all over the place was not easy, lemme tell you that; as for the stockings, he thinks he's ripped them a bit pulling them up, and getting the back seam anywhere near central has been a fucking nightmare; finally, attaching the garter to the lacy top of the stockings was fiddly as fuck, and took him another age and a half, and a bad case of mounting frustration. All in all, he feels uncomfortable and completely ridiculous.

“Loki, either you get out here now, or I'm bringing you a bowl of food and a litter tray and from now on I'm calling you Mr. Fluffy.”

“Okay, okay, hang on...” he grumbles. A huff of resignation that comes from a place beyond hope and self-respect, and he opens the door. Arms around himself, uselessly trying to cover up, he shuffles out.

Darcy’s bottom jaw drops and her eyes open wide. Loki rubs his face, embarrassed. He waits for the laughs.

“You _bastard_ ,” she gasps. “You _asshole_ ,” she gasps some more. "You son of a..."

“What?” says Loki timidly, concerned now.

“You look like a fucking supermodel, that’s what!” she exclaims, bounding for him, getting him to turn this way and that. “Not one fucking speck of cellulite of course, and that butt is _so_ fucking unfair. I hate you!” All of which she’s saying with an ear-to-ear blinding grin, which to Loki is both appeasing and disturbing. Appeasing because she doesn’t seem to really hate him, and disturbing because it’s strongly suggesting that he has finally driven her barking mad.

“So it looks good?” he asks. Not ashamed to admit he needs the reassurance. A squee is not enough right now. He needs words. Lots of them, as unambiguously positive and enthusiastic as possible.

“Good? _Good_?” she repeats, indignant. “He’s going to burst a goddamn blood vessel, your boy! You need to send him photos! He’ll totally fricking lose it!”

Loki blushes and finally dares to assess himself properly in Darcy’s full-body mirror. He's still as broad and muscular as he was this morning (that would be thanks to all the swimming) but the chemise changes everything. The swirls of the lace, while insinuatingly see through, disguise his boyish stomach. The vertical trims that resemble a corset fool the eye into following a curve that isn't there. Even his shoulders look softened or more slender somehow, just because the lacy straps of the chemise run across them.

“Your ass is to die for. To die for, I’m telling ya. I mean, here I am, dying.”

Loki turns around and examines how the skimpy thong frames his butt, somehow emphasising the roundness and the fleshiness over the tight, pert qualities that are more apparent when he’s wearing briefs or tight boxers instead. And the garter belt breaks the line between his legs and his torso and seems to create hips, and the stockings soften his bony knees and sinewy calves, and if he raises his arms, sucks in his stomach, arches his back, and sticks his bum out like he tried this morning… Oh. My. God. Yes. _It could pass._

“You look so fucking hot in this, I hate you,” says Darcy.

Loki smirks at the sexy boy in the mirror.

“Darcy, (harrumph,) do you think you could… help me take some photos?"

 

The closet door is a suitable background. Creamy white, bathed in the soft light of the afternoon that comes in through the window, not too harsh. _And with no identifiable features,_ adds Loki in his head. Even if Thor had been in this room, which is doubtful, he wouldn’t recognize that bit, because it doesn’t stand out in any way. It’s perfect.

“H-how do I… No, wait, not the face!”

“Why not? He’s seen your face, hasn’t he?”

Loki goes purple.

“Yeah but, but… ever heard of hacking accounts? Revenge porn, all of that?” Quick thinking, clever boy. Points to you.

“You think he’d do that?”

“No, but… But I’m sure neither did all the people this has happened to. Better safe than sorry.”

“You’re the boss, clever boy,” she says, and winks.

 

(Fifteen minutes later.)

“Sweetie, you need to relax a bit more. You seem very uptight.”

Loki huffs, exasperate, paralyzingly self-conscious. This isn’t working. Whose fucking idea was this? What the hell had he been thinking?

“I’m trying,” he protests weakly, grouchy, frustrated with himself.

“Okay, boy. We're going to crack this, or my name isn't Darcy Lewis. Come on, deep breaths. That’s it, in, out, in, out. Now shake your hair. Seriously, do it, a massive shake, come on. See? Channel your inner Tina Turner. Now put your hands on the door and spread your feet, like I was going to give you a shake down. Do the thing with your butt, I want to see it in all its glory. Now, still. Deep breaths. Think Madonna. Think Lady Gaga. Think Jessica Rabbit. Here we go.”

And so it goes for a while, trying different poses. He follows her instructions as best he can. _Now one foot on the bed, as if you were doing up your stockings. Now lift your arms, arch your back, hold your hair up, that’s it. Now hand on your waist, cock your hip, cross your legs at the ankles. Now try on my heels. Bend over in half, hold your ankles. Do it, trust me._

“You are a seriously hot woman, Loki,” says Darcy. “You make a hotter lingerie model than a Victoria’s Secret angel. Poor Stormy-boy is going to _die_. Let’s take some on the bed. Wait, I have these black sheets…”

And that is how Loki ends up posing on Darcy’s bed in lingerie, trying to find a good balance between teasing and tasteful postures. On his back, knees up, crossing legs. On his front, feet in the air; crossing his ankles. On his side, one leg forward, propped on one elbow, stroking his thigh. Now from the back, now from the front. Then on all fours, from different angles.

“Ooooh, you’re really getting into the spirit now, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, bright red, nowhere to hide his _growing enthusiasm_ in that scrap of fabric. It's this fucking posture, Darcy finish up already...

 

“So, you’re going to send Stormy-boy some of these?” muses Darcy when they’re sitting on the bed side by side, heads cozily together, looking through the yield of their little photo shoot.

“I’m not sure,” he lies. (He is, he totally is. Mission accomplished, and how. Miss Honeytrap, you are _so_ fired. Not fired, you have been annihilated, obliterated. Bite the fucking dust, girl. Watch these and _cry_.)

“Anyway, this reminds me,” she says, standing up. She has a rummage in her closet. “Happy birthday, sweetie,” she says when she returns, holding a small oblong box wrapped in deep red satiny paper.

“It’s still two weeks away.”

“I was going to save it, but I think you could really use it now, when you show these to Storm.”

He frowns, utterly suspicious.

“Don’t you want it then?” she pouts.

“Okay, gimme.”

Loki unwraps the parcel with wariness. He has a bad feeling…

“What… the fuck?” His eyes are bulging out of his orbits, his cheeks are burning red. (Where is his fucking cool? How very _embarrassing_.)

Darcy sits beside him on the bed, takes the box from him to open it up and reveal its contents.

“It’s specially designed for beginners. There’s a thinner one, to get used to it, and when you’re ready, you move on to this one.”

Loki is gaping like an idiot. An awfully flustered idiot. Truth of the matter is, he had never seen one of these in real life before.

“What do you think? Pretty, huh?”

A pair of bright pink silicone dildos.

“I went with a realistic shape. I thought if you’re going to pretend it’s you know who, realistic was better. The color… Well, I couldn’t afford the really well-finished ones, so I went for funky. Top-quality silicone, though. Look after them and they’ll last you for years, no matter how much you use them.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

And realistic they are. Loki finds himself holding a cock in each hand, one thinner, the other thicker and longer, with their bulbous heads and veins and ridges, nice, pleasant weight, yielding but firm to the touch.

“Then this bullet goes in here, if you want them to vibrate. I’m even throwing in the batteries and the lube, because I’m generous like that.”

She illustrates with the thinner dildo. It starts buzzing in Loki’s hand. Loki drops it as if he’d been bitten. She chuckles. He’s still speechless.

“You don’t have to say anything, sweetie,” she says, putting both dildos back in their box, and patting his back like a chump. “You can thank me later. And I mean you _will_ be thanking me later.” She kisses his cheek. "I hope they bring you lots of happiness. To you, and to Storm."

 

 

“Did you have a nice day, darling?” says his mom from the kitchen when he gets home.

Loki mumbles a reply while he rushes by directly up to his room, with a fixed, single purpose: find a fucking place to hide his extremely secret cargo, two silicone dildos and a phone chocka-full of nudes in lingerie.

He brushes past Thor on the stairs, their shoulders clash.

“What’s up your ass?” he snaps.

How Loki cringes (always so on point, brother.)

He shuts and locks the door and looks around his room in a panic, as if his backpack contained a time bomb that was going to self-destruct if he didn’t put it away in the next ten seconds. Nowhere seems safe enough, hidden enough, inaccessible enough.

In his mind, the rest of Darcy’s sales pitch still goes on and on. _“These are suckers on the base, so you can stick them to the bathroom wall, or the floor, or a chair, and you can fuck yourself on them. And you can practice your fellatio skills too. Your boy will fucking lose it watching you make sweet oral love to these babies. Are you guys Skype-ing yet?”_

 

“Dinner in five minutes! Come set up the table!” Frigga’s voice from downstairs. “Thor?”

“Yes, mom!”

“Loki?”

“I-in a minute!” he stutters.

In the drawer they go, under some t-shirts. He’ll have to find a more secure location later.

 _(Stick them to the bathroom wall and fuck yourself on them… Start with the thinner one, get used to it, and then when you feel more comfortable…)_ Fucking hell, not now. He adjusts himself, and tries to think of less exciting things. It's really, really hard. Ugh, his choice of words.

 

As he walks in and out of the kitchen with plates and cutlery, keeping his face low and screaming internally at himself to stop thinking about dicks and dildos and erections and cucumbers and zeppelins and courgettes and bananas and fucking aubergines, he hears Thor ask,

“What’s for dinner, mom?”

“Sausage casserole!” she announces. “Are you okay, Loki? You look pale...”

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has stuff to show his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Golikethatcat, with lots of love.

 

It’s at times like these when you really notice the age difference between mom and dad. Saturday afternoon. Mom is at the gym, and dad is slumped like a sack of wet cement on the couch, head fallen on his chest, snoring.

In theory, Saturday afternoon is father-son time; Odin and Thor are supposed to be bonding over collective enjoyment of televised contact sports. And sure, Thor is right beside him, pigging out on nuts from a big bowl, chugging the one beer he’s allowed on weekends. Not sure how much bonding can occur when one of the parts is passed out, and the other one’s attention is mostly on his phone (socializing with his mates, making arrangements for this evening), but that’s the idea, and for a few months now, father and son had stuck to it faithfully. It’s the thought that counts, one would guess.

As for Loki, contact sports are not his thing. The time will come when his departure for college will start to loom, and mom will probably want to insist on bonding activities of some kind with their rather remote father, but for now, he is usually not expected here on a Saturday afternoon. But shutting himself up in his happy cocoon upstairs is not as enticing as it used to be when Thor is in the house and outside of his own room. Yes sir, Loki is getting more fresh air lately. He spent two whole hours in the garden this morning pruning the hedges while Thor mowed the lawn in a tight white tank top. Mom was shocked. Nobody had even had to ask him! The hedges were in not such a bad shape, they could have waited another week. Loki could not. And at the end of it all, the two brothers sat on the porch with a coke in a comfortable silence, exchanged a couple of jokes. It was _amazing_.

Loki has his phone with him, of course. I mean, he pretty much always does, multi-purpose little thing. A power shield that protects him from awkwardness when hanging about alone somewhere (makes him look busy, suggests he might have a life, or a purpose even), a portal to another place that’s more entertaining and blessedly far away. A talisman to look into when avoiding somebody’s eyes. And since last weekend, after the little photoshoot at Darcy’s, a very dangerous, very sensitive weapon of mass destruction, a vial of deadly poison. If somebody should get access to its contents, there would be a massacre. Damn fucking right he carries it with him at all times these days. Never lets it out of his sight, not even in the shower. Such a powerful, lethal little thing.

In the secrecy of his room, he’s been fiddling with the photos all week. Not just adjusting light and contrast, but cropping and reframing and cropping again, making sure not to leave in one single identifiable feature that could betray him. And yeah, ok, he’s done a bit more than just that; he’s smoothed out a few muscles where they looked too sinewy, too manly, and he’s also airbrushed a few patches of body hair. He doesn’t have a lot, but most girls he knows shave or wax their legs and armpits, and that’s the look he’s aiming for, a regular _girl_ . The idea did cross his mind about adding curves where there aren’t any, but it was quickly and vehemently dismissed: It means something to him that those images are _him_ , just him, and nothing but him. It’s a matter of pride.

So anyway, after intensive, thorough, and by this point mostly superfluous tinkering, the photos are ready, as ready as they can ever be. They have been for days. So what is he waiting for then? I mean, it’s not like they’ve not crossed an irreparable number of red lines already, right? This whole story is fucked up with a capital F, with or without the photos. Right? So who cares? What’s one more red line crossed?

Then again. _Then again._

And so, he’s been all week bouncing between two moods: Hoe, don’t do it / Bitch, what are you waiting for.

“Just throw the damn ball!” Thor grumbles at the TV.

Odin half opens an eye, and goes back to snoring.

Thor’s beer is all gone. He throws a look at Odin, and then goes to get himself another. Loki’s brain drops everything it was doing and focuses on the unexpectedly graceful bulk of his brother walking to the kitchen. He’s wearing soft knit jogging pants and (so Loki would swear) _nothing else_. And it’s doing Loki’s head in. Such a fidget, his brother, constantly shifting, changing position, crossing and uncrossing his legs; _and_ bucking his hips up every now and then to pull the pants out of the crack of his ass. The material rises and falls, tenses and drapes, hides and reveals. And Loki has to scrape up every last shred of self-control he can find to not keep _looking_. It’s fucking _exhausting_. And though it still feels weird as fuck, because, fuck, this is Thor, Thor as in _his_ _brother Thor_ , Loki can’t help but follow the swing of that ass on his way there, and has to really, _really_ try not to follow the swing of… things on the way back. Sweet mother of god, he’s so, so sick. He’s obsessed with his brother’s _junk_ , swinging freely under a wisp of fabric.

But it gets worse. There’s a bit of a thing going on currently in Thor’s year; the boys have all been growing beards (those who physically _can_ , that is.) Pretty much all of them look older and manlier and just, you know, better, but Thor. Oh my god, _Thor_ . His hotness has increased by several orders of magnitude. He just… Wow. There is no fucking contest. I mean, there is no _need_ for one. Skip the fucking play-offs and just hand him the cup. Potential rivals, watch and cry. You can’t compete with a _god_.

It kind of hits Loki now sometimes, how fricking inconceivable it is that he’s grown up next to this crowning achievement of the human species and never really realized just how fucking beautiful Thor is. He saw it, sure, he knew it. But it did not _do_ this to him. It didn’t stun him into reverent, awed silence.

And now he gets lost in it, watching Thor. He falls into a trance. Harmonious, pleasantly symmetrical features, but any potential blandness or lack of character done away with by that fierceness in his eyes when he frowns, the fucking sparkles when he’s happy. His mouth is so fucking lovely, but when he smiles, fucking hell, he lights up the room. And now that fucking beard, giving him gravitas, adding a few years, sharpening what’s soft and childish, making him look like a man. And it looks so fucking _strokable_. He has had to pull himself back several times now right from the edge of asking his brother if he could feel it.

“Do I have something on my face, smurf?” asks his brother.

Loki comes to with a start.

“Your dinner,” he fires back quickly. He jerks his chin towards Thor’s face, he gestures vaguely. “Saving all those crumbs for a midnight snack or something?”

Thor laughs in his direction (that jaw-splitting grin, dazzling; feels like being hit by a thunderbolt) as he wipes the bristles around his mouth.

“Very practical,” he says. He’s in a good mood. “You should grow one. Oh, wait, sorry, how insensitive of me. You _can’t_ .” Another chuckle. He’s not being cruel, just… _Thorly_. Loki isn’t affected.

“Hah, hah,” he deadpans. And after a moment he asks. “Is it annoying?”

“What, the beard? A bit itchy when it was growing. Now it’s really nice not to have to shave everyday.”

“Not that I would know anything about that, right?” snarks Loki. And after another short silence. “Makes you look older.”

“That was kind of the idea.”

“Why?”

“Casting aside childish things, I don’t know,” Thor shrugs.

“It’s all about buying booze without an ID, isn’t it?”

His brother chuckles, husky, warm.

“It suits you,” Loki says. He’s tried to just drop it in there in passing. He absolutely wasn’t supposed to blush like that. He quickly buries his eyes in his phone, praying in silence that Thor hasn’t noticed.

Thor fingers a gun at him, pulls the imaginary trigger with a clacking sound of his tongue, winks.

“Thanks, smurf.”

 _Smurf_. Tisch. Loki clenches his jaw. He’s irrationally pissed off now. Irrationally, because Thor regularly calls him that, and has been doing so pretty much forever. But right now, Loki has a real problem not throwing the fucking phone at his brother’s head, aiming for the eyes.

And then there are other impulses that have just become awfully, awfully pressing.

He should never _ever_ let himself make decisions in this kind of mood; the amount of dangerously stupid stuff he’s got himself into of late when he’s feeling like this, ugh. Loki, honestly, haven’t you learned your lesson? ( _Hoe, don’t do it.)_ So many stupid things, so many, ugh.

...So hey, what’s one more. _(Bitch, what are you waiting for.)_

Loki holds his phone in a dead grip.

 _Smurf?_ I’ll fucking give you smurf.

He goes to his files, has a quick browse; but he’s had his mind set on one particular photo for days now. On his feet, slightly off frame, holding his hair up, face turned to the invisible window on his right, features hidden by his arm. In the dark green satin chemise with black lace inserts and velvet trim, and that exquisite lacy thong. His arched back and the lines of the lingerie sinuously leading the eye to one perky, round, smooth buttock; and once that rolling hill is left behind, meet a few miles of white leg in black stockings, with a matching garter belt keeping the composition tight. The light is soft and warm, and that person in the photo is absolutely lovely. And could very well be a young, delicious, nubile young _girl_.

So Loki selects the file. His finger hovers for a moment. He takes a quiet breath, bites his lip, and clicks _send_.

The teeny tiny little package of data goes up up up in the sky, hops through a few satellites, and then it makes its way down down down again, back to the living room at Chez Borson, and ping! it lands in his brother’s phone. And now there’s no taking that back. Shit.

_What have I done._

The following seconds seem to happen underwater, in slow motion, every tiny blink or twitch of his brother’s expression arising slowly enough for Loki not to miss a single one. The soft smile—vague, barely reaching his eyes, so warm—when Thor recognizes the specific sound that identifies who the message is from. He grabs the phone and his thumb flies to unblock the screen, and then a fraction of a second passes while the app loads up and opens. And then another fraction for the image to download, and oh, Thor’s eyes, wow, will you just look at that. How they widen, the fucking poetry of his eyebrows rising, his mouth about to fall open. And suddenly, the screeching effort to contain his reaction and reel back. Thor’s eyes dart around nervously as if Loki and Odin could see what he’s seeing, see what he’s _thinking_. And then he must realize his dad hasn’t stopped snoring, and that Loki is focused intently on his phone, maybe reading or whatever. That nobody cares what he’s just been sent, and that he can look safely. And look he does, now with a more neutral expression, carefully managed to make him look unaffected. A thumb slide, and now the photo must be flooding the screen. The light is not the brightest now, and Loki might be imagining things, but if that isn’t an honest to god flush of color creeping up Thor’s neck and face. The stony expression cracks a tad into a pleased, smarmy half grin. His brother is fucking _delighted_. And Loki? Loki is vibrating in his own skin, about to fucking blow up into a rain of light and noise like fucking fireworks, one of those massive displays that fill the sky. It’s a lot to hold in.

Before Thor has time to gather his wits, Loki launches a second attack. Second favourite pic. Still with the whole lingerie set, the framing strategically cropped to leave face and hands out; the person in the photo is on their hands and knees on a bed with black sheets, a slight thong and garter belt framing a damn fine, heart-shaped, rather inviting butt.

Thor’s reaction is _everything_ . His jaw drops, his eyes go huge, he leans forward, and he stares at the photo like he doesn’t know what to _do_ with this. Like he’s totally overcome. And Loki has to put in everything he’s got to pretend that he isn’t looking, that he isn’t noticing a thing, but he really, really struggles. There is something in his chest and in his throat that’s just bursting to come out. He wants to _yelp_.

This shit is addictive. Loki fires one more salvo: in this one he’s on his back, one arm over his chest, making it look like there are breasts to cover, another one between his legs, suggestive, one knee raised to block the view to specific areas, and a fine arch in his back, a sexy but subtle position. The lighting is magnificent, pure Baroque. Darcy, you’re a genius.

Thor sits up on the couch, back ramrod straight. And oh, Loki _saw_ that, he totally gulped. His brother’s face is serious now, as if he has important business in mind that require his immediate attention. He slips the phone into his pocket, stretches his arms (stiff as a board, playing for the gallery) and mumbles.

“‘M going up to my room.”

“Not watching the rest of the game?” asks Loki sweetly, coy. He’s fucking enjoying this.

“‘S’almost finished,” says Thor.

Loki rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t protest (he thinks I’m stupid, right? _Just because I don’t follow it, doesn’t mean I don’t know how much longer a game goes on for, brother.)_

Anyway, who cares, Loki is also eager to get this show on the road. And he should also be glad to, uh, see the back of his brother, so to speak, because, well, the photos have surely made Thor feel a little bit _eager_ too, and those soft jogging pants… It’s hard for Loki to keep his eyes off that burgeoning semi, and he really, really should.

Thor disappears up the stairs, and Loki counts Mississippies.

And sure enough, only a handful of rivers later.

 

_Storm99: oh_

_Storm99: my_

_Storm99: fucking_

_Storm99: god_

_Storm99: princess_

_Storm99: !!!!!!!!!!!_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: im fucking speechless my brain is a fucking puddle_

_Storm99: what the_

_Storm99: i cant form sentences sorry u broke me_

 

Loki’s smiling from ear to ear. Seriously, it will start to hurt soon.

Odin makes a series of noises in his sleep, chortles and huffs. Then he settles. Loki is _not_ doing this here, with football on and his father snoring. A prudential time after his brother’s disappearance has now elapsed. He grabs the phone and tip-toes quietly up the stairs to his room.

He locks the door, throws himself on the bed, and reads again that outpour of enthusiasm before he can think what to reply.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: so u like them then_

_Storm99: like???_

_Storm99: LIKE???_

_Storm99: !!!!!!!!!_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: ur cute when ur speechless_

_Storm99: & ur the most beautiful thing ive ever fucking seen in my entire life _

 

Loki rolls over, hides his face in his pillow, and _squeals_. Softly, with feeling.

 

_Storm99: where did that come from when did it happen?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: went shopping the other day_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: then went modeling ;)_

_Storm99: who took them?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: lol_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: a friend of mine_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: a *girl* friend_

_Storm99: rite_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: jealous?_

_Storm99: jealous?? me?? would i have wanted 2 b the 1 in that room w u taking those pics???? that a serious question??_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_ (#^_^#)

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i just saw the thing in the shop i thought i’d look cute in it and then thought mayb ud like 2 see me in it_

_Storm99: mayb? u fucking tease_

_Storm99: bby YOU LOOK GORGEOUS_

_Storm99: LIKE A FUCKING DREAM_

_Storm99: im dead fucking dead_

 

Oh my GOD, who even knew being alive could feel so _good_?

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i got more_

_Storm99: omg_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but if ur dead…_

_Storm99: not that dead pls show me_

 

Loki chuckles out loud in his room. He has a look at his stash. Hm, when he tried on Darcy’s heels, in his garter and stockings, and leaned on her closet door like he was about to be frisked... He does have very photogenic legs.

 

_Storm99: fuuuuuuuck_

_Storm99: ur so fucking sexy princess i have no words_

_Storm99: i mean_

_Storm99: whoa_

_Storm99: sweet merciful jesus_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: !!!!!!!!!_

_Storm99: i’m just looking at them and_

_Storm99: ur a goddess_

_Storm99: so so hot and confident and sensual_

_Storm99: like if i was there rn bby i’d be on my fucking knees kissing ur feet_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: lol kinky_

_Storm99: i know i know i’m talking shit i just_

_Storm99: can’t fucking think let alone string sentences together with all my blood in_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: oh_

_Storm99: yes oh_

_Storm99: OH even ;)_

 

Loki himself is not impervious to the situation either. That delicious hot throb deep inside, that pulsing in his cock, getting visibly bigger and thicker where it’s trapped in the leg of his jeans. Which gives him a naughty, naughty idea. So naughty. Unbelievably naughty. It’s not just one more red line, this one. It’s a fucking fence painted in black and white stripes with flashing orange lights on. He shouldn’t cross it. Really. He shouldn’t even be thinking about it. Of all the Terribly Fucked Up Things they have done…

That throb is so, so good. Won’t let him _live_.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: show me_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: show u?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i showed u mine show me yours?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: pls_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: idk bby not sure_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: why?_

_Storm99:_

 

Oh god forget it. It’s way too much, isn’t it? And does Loki even want to see _this_ , for real? He’s having second thoughts now. Those flashing orange lights are really going at it now.

 

_Storm99: ok hang on a sec_

 

Oh my FUCK he’s gonna do it. He’s gonna do it god save us all.

 

_Storm99 sent a photo file_

 

Loki is holding onto the phone for dear life, shaking. On his screen, a blank, blurred square with a little round arrow, “click to download”.

You can still back away from this, boy. There is still hope in hell that… Oh, _fuck it._ His breathing coming in short, shallow bursts, and his insides churning, Loki taps on the screen.

It’s the longest fucking three quarters of a second of his entire life.

In the frame, the image of a crotch in light knit jog pants (and _definitely_ nothing else, that’s confirmed) strained by a sizeable erection. Not quite a dick pic. He’s not sure if he’s disappointed, or relieved.

However, on second look. Oh. My. God. The fabric is thin enough you can make out the shape of the _head_.

For a second, Loki is sure he’s going to puke. The next second, he’s folding over with the burning hot stab right in the middle of his groin. _Oomph._

He stares and he stares and he stares, his chest rising and falling quickly.

Storm99: princess?

_One_for_Sorrow5654: more_

 

He typed it before he could think about it.

 

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99 sent a photo file_

 

Oh holy mary and all the saints. Loki swallows dry. He taps on the blurry square to download.

He physically, audibly sighs. His brother’s big, yet oddly refined hand, one thumb hooked on the waistband of the sweatpants, pulling them down. Golden pubes (old gold), and a glimpse of the dark, veiny root of a _thick hard cock_.

This is the very same piece of anatomy Loki used to be scientifically curious about in the bathtub, or at the beach, or back when they shared a room, or whenever Thor barged into the bathroom to piss while Loki was in the shower. The exact same bit. Only now by the power of fucking Grayskull or whatever, it’s giving him palpitations and there is surely a growing risk of a full blown heart attack.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: more_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: no bby better not_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: why???_

_Storm99: ur 15_

_Storm99: i think there are grounds 4 me 2 go 2 jail already with what uve sent me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: im not going 2 report u!_

_Storm99: lol i know i mean i hope so but_

_Storm99: idk bby_

_Storm99: it doesn’t feel right_

_Storm99: i just don’t feel comfortable about it_

_Storm99: what u sent was suggestive and erotic and supersexy but nothing was in ur face if u know what i mean_

_Storm99: and maybe that’s enough don’t u think?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i dont think_

_Storm99: bby id feel like a creep ur only 15_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: my birthday is in a couple of weeks_

_Storm99: lol ok ask me again on ur birthday_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: ill hold u 2 that_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: dont think i wont_

_Storm99: lol ok_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: promise?_

_Storm99: maybe_ ;-)

_One_for_Sorrow5654: d’aw *pouting*_

_Storm99: and im sure its an adorable pouting face too <333 _

 

Cute or not, the pout stays in place for a while.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u think its creepy? What we’r doing?_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: i think if ur honest and im honest and we’r both good people who respect each other and want good things 4 each other_

_Storm99: & we dont rush into anything & take our time _;-)

_Storm99: then no its not creepy_

_Storm99: i can imagine how it would look 2 people from the outside tho_

_Storm99: and im a little_

_Storm99: well i guess it does concern me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: what_

Oh, nothing, brother. Just, thoughts, you know. What are those tiny red horns that have suddenly sprouted in my forehead, you ask? Hm, care to find out? Here goes nothing.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i say, ur an awfully grounded and sensible young man, considerate & decent _

_Storm99: lol_

_Storm99: thank u v much i try_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

 

If you’re gonna do it, do it now.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i got an early birthday prez from that same friend_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: a friend who has been in a distance relationship & knows how hard it is for young hearts 2 b apart _

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and contrived methods to alleviate the burdens of separation_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: *intrigued*_

 

Loki has fished the very special super secret box from the deepest reaches of his wardrobe, taken both dildos out of their silky black pouches, and placed the big boy on the bed, on a black t-shirt for a neutral background. He takes a photo, and sends it.

 

Storm99: *spit take*

Storm99: !!!

Storm99:

_One_for_Sorrow5654: r u quite finished?_

_Storm99:_ XD

_Storm99: pretty much yeah_

_Storm99: Ended. Kaput. i blame u_

_Storm99: so (cough) have u tried it yet?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: no_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: how does this work let’s see_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: im an innocent virgin i dont know much about these things im afraid_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: this end must be the one u put in ur mouth?_

_Storm99: *another spit take*_

_Storm99: u want to physically kill me 2day_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: *gobble gobble gobble*_

_Storm99: ROFLMAO_

_Storm99: i adore u bby_

 

Loki _implodes_. No, seriously. He’s pretty sure hearts are not supposed to do this thing his has just done. This is a medical emergency. There might be some internal bleeding, or worse.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: send me another pic_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: pls_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: doesnt have 2 b u know_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: just_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: hang on_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99 sent a photo file_

 

Thor holding himself through his clothes, a firm grab. The way the light of the table lamp falls on his crotch, on the thin grey fabric of the jog pants, leave so little to the imagination, so fucking little. If this was manga, Loki would be splashing half his room with a projectile nosebleed right now.

He holds the dildo in his hand, closes his eyes, squeezes it. Rolls on his stomach, types with one hand, feels the warm silicone with the other. Presses his hip against the mattress, squashing his own hard-on.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: pretnd i’m on my knees between ur legs rn_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i have the dildo in my hand tell me what 2 do_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: tell me what u like. how u like it_

_Storm99: jesus_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: come on like we havent done worse_

_Storm99: ik_

_Storm99: it just feels *more* somehow_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: ik_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: its amazing_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: *closes eyes, licks it*_

_Storm99: oh bby omg_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: tell me_

_Storm99: jesus_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: He cant help u now_

_Storm99: LOL_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: come on_

_Storm99: slow_

_Storm99: i like it slow_

_Storm99: 2 begin with_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: tell me what 2 do precisely_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: & ill be doing it _

_One_for_Sorrow5654: as u type_

_Storm99: fuck_

_Storm99: fuck ok_

_Storm99: hold the base tight_

_Storm99: like, tight. its not gonna break or anything. some girls are like so delicate_

_Storm99: and im like its not a fucking flower u have no idea how hard i go when i do this myself go right the fuck ahead and *grab it*_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: axes 2 grind, anyone?_

_Storm99: lol_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: got it_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: tight hold_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what else_

_Storm99: lick it_

_Storm99: along the shaft_

_Storm99: avoid anything too sensitive like the head, speclly under. tease me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: mmmmm ok_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m on it_

_Storm99:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it has these veins did u notice in the pic? very realistic_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m licking along them_

_Storm99: oh dear god_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u know an angel dies or someth every time u take the Lord’s name in vein in this situation dont u_

_Storm99:_ XD

_Storm99: im so fucking turned on rn im afraid to come in my pants_

_Storm99: just thinking of u like that_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: like what_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: running my tongue up and down ur cock slow_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: until its all wet and slick and shiny_

_Storm99: hnnng_

_Storm99: does it taste plasticky_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: a little bit_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: not as bad as i thought_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: id like 2 know how u taste_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: how u smell_

_Storm99: shit_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: so can i suck it already or_

_Storm99: bby goddammit_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: im impatient what can i say_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: take it easy bby_

_Storm99: make it last_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes tell me_

_Storm99: is it stuck on something?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: can do_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: has like a sucker at the base hang on_

 

A bit of maneuvering, and now there is a nice hot pink dildo proudly jutting up from the surface of Loki’s bedside table, nice and smooth and just right for this kind of thing, and more or less the right height too. And Loki gets on his knees for real now, and breathes deep, with the phone in his hand, and his other fist curled up tightly around that dildo.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: its in position_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: im on my knees ready 2 suck it_

_Storm99: dont yet_

_Storm99: jerk it slowly while u lick under the head_

 

Now we’re fucking talking. Loki accommodates his throbbing hard-on as well as he possibly can, closes his eyes, and does just as he’s told. He decides to tell himself that the plasticky taste (really not overpowering at all, good quality stuff, thanks Darcy) is the condom, and as he strokes up and down the shaft, he explores tentatively with his tongue. And he pictures it. His brother looking down on him, eyes glazed, breathing hard, maybe petting his hair. His own erection tugs hard, trapped as it is. He cops a good feel.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: wht r u dng_

 

Takes a moment longer than usual for Thor to reply.

 

_Storm99: jerking off_

_Storm99: teasng mslf_

_Storm99: i sht my eys nd pretnd ur here_

 

Ah fuck. _Fuck_.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: can i suck it yet_

_Storm99: fuck_

_Storm99:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: let me suck u_

_Storm99: fuckng hll_

_Storm99: yeah bby_

_Storm99: suck me_

 

Loki closes his eyes again and takes it into his mouth, seals his lips around the head, slobbers it well. He tries to get it deep. Doesn’t make it even half-way. He uses his hand where his mouth can’t reach. He uses his tongue.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: keep tllng me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: tell me how_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: wnt me 2 go fastr?_

_Storm99: shit_

_Storm99: bby if u wer here_

_Storm99: id jst let u do whtvr u felt like_

_Storm99: whtver feels good 2 u_

_Storm99: id like 2 see u tease me_

_Storm99: react 2 wht u see me do_

_Storm99: fuck princss i wnt u so bad_

 

With the silicone dildo in his mouth, Loki whimpers desperately. He squeezes the heavy, throbbing hard-on in the fold of his jeans.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: im suckng hard_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: using my hand tight_

_Storm99: fuck bby_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: now jerking slow_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: my tongue on the head_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: flicking quickly just under_

_Storm99: hnnng fuck yes_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: would u grab my hair_

_Storm99: u wnt me 2?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes fuck_

_Storm99: shit_

_Storm99: shit bby_

_Storm99: lol id tell u i like it slow but_

_Storm99: if this ws real i would have come like hours ago_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: ud want me 2 swallow?_

_Storm99: not bothered either way_

_Storm99: if she finds it hot i find it hot_

_Storm99: if she hates it I wouldnt find it hot, wouldnt ask her_

_Storm99: i wouldnt ask u its wht u wnt really_

 

He rolls his eyes in pure despair. His brother is such a fucking _gentleman_.

And Loki is so, so fucking horny.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: id want u 2 come inside me when u fuckd me_

_Storm99: shit_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: id like tht so much_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: tht was so fuckng close now_

_Storm99: gd i wnat 2 fck u so bad_

_Storm99: so bad bby_

_Storm99: this is fckng torture_

 

Dildo still in hand, Loki buries his face in his arm and wants to roar. Instead, he eyes the slimmer dildo. Hm.

His hands are on his flies in under a second, fumbling clumsily, so impatient. He pushes his pants down and kicks them off. He grabs the slimmer dildo and the lube, and throws himself on the bed, on his back. Spreads wide.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: im on th bed_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: gonna fck mself_

_Storm99: yo bby tht lookd pretty thick b careful there_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: got a thinner one_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: 4 bginners_

_Storm99: ur friend is a gem_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: isnt she just_

_Storm99: still b careful go slow_

_Storm99: dont hurt urself_

 

Oh, Thor, big brother twenty-four fucking seven.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: tell me things_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: pretnd its u_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: jst about 2 fck me_

_Storm99: fuuuuuck_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: id b kneeling between ur legs_

_Storm99: looking at ur amazing body, touching u_

_Storm99: id play with ur clit gently_

_Storm99: i would have been eating u out 4 half an hour at this point_

_Storm99: ud b so wet_

_Storm99: id slip my fingr in fuck u with it_

_Storm99: then id stroke u with my dick_

_Storm99: rub it on u_

_Storm99: rub it right there_

_Storm99: ud b squirming and moaning and gd so lovely so sexy_

 

Loki rubs the thin dildo on himself, circles it on his hole. He still has the other one in his mouth, except for texting. He’s shuddering with need now.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: put it in me already fuck_

_Storm99: lol_

_Storm99: yeah? U wnt that bby?_

_Storm99: wnt this inside u?_

_Storm99: wnt me 2 fck u now?_

 

Loki teases himself, resists temptation to, uh, _push on ahead_.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: godfuckngdmmit_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: fck me please fuck me_

_Storm99: bby id love 2 c u now_

_Storm99: love 2 hear u_

_Storm99: im lining up now gonna put it inside u_

 

Yes fucking please, thank god.

 

_Storm99: come on bby do it_

 

Loki tries, just an inch. It goes right in, well lubed and horny as he is. It still burns. So, so weird. Nothing to do with his fingers. And not particularly nice.

 

_Storm99: u ok?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: weird_

_Storm99: move it slow_

_Storm99: in out in out slow not 2 deep_

 

Loki closes his eyes for a moment, and sucks the dildo, and slips the other one bit further in. And out. And a bit further in. Still not nice, but god, this is so fucking hot, lying there, sucking, fucking. He feels debauched and slutty and he likes it. It inspires him to pick up the pace, be a little less careful, go a little less gently. It burns. His face burns too. _Look at yourself._

 

_Storm99: touch urself_

_Storm99: ur clit_

_Storm99: tease urself while u fuck_

 

It means Loki has to put down the dildo he was sucking on, but it sounds like a good idea, so he holds his dick, only half-hard now, and squeezes and strokes and teases. (Hnnnng...)

And starts fucking a bit faster, a bit deeper.

 

_Storm99: how do u feel?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: full_

_Storm99: keep moving gently_

_Storm99: gt used 2 it_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: hve u done mny vrgins?_

_Storm99: never kiss n tell!_

_Storm99: jst guessng wt wld feel good 2 me_

_Storm99: i mean if it was me_

 

Loki keeps going, and the burn mixes with the nice feelings coming from his dick, and he starts getting hard again.

He also gets a bit cheeky.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: if it was ur ass?_

_Storm99: lol yeah i guess_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: wuld u like tht?_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: i hve no idea_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: never tried?_

_Storm99: nope_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u agnst it?_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: dunno_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i think its hot_

_Storm99: yeah?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: would u do it 1 day?_

_Storm99: wt_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: fingr urslf 4 me_

_Storm99: lol_

_Storm99: get me drunk first_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: lol_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: deal_

 

He drops the phone and grabs his dick again, shuts his eyes. He’s fully hard now. And it’s like a fucking revolution of the people down there. The crowds are amassing, a growing clamor is rising.

In short, _now_ he’s fucking feeling it.

The phone pings, and Loki opens his eyes to check the screen.

 

_Storm99: how r u bby?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: nnnnng_

_Storm99: lol_

 

Everything in Loki’s body is demanding that he puts all his attention on the matters at hand. It does feel like he’s gonna get there with flying colors with only a few more thrusts and a few more strokes. So he stops stroking, and keeps to the thrusting. And grabs the phone.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: wt u dng?_

_Storm99: me?_

_Storm99: humping the be d_

_Storm99: fkng my own fist_

_Storm99: wt can i do_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_ XD

_One_for_Sorrow5654: pants down?_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: they are now_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: oh my_

 

And he imagines it. Thor on his stomach on the bed, pants halfway down his thighs, his butt clenching as he ruts. Frustrated, grunting, whimpering.

Loki’s in fucking flames. He wants to come, like, yesterday. He holds it. He endures it. He still leaves his cock alone (now painfully hard and leaking pre-come) and he keeps fucking himself. Way too thin to be his brother but… but it could be his brother holding the dildo. It could be his brother’s hand. It could be… Oh, Jesus fucking… Everything’s just escalated suddenly, when he closes his eyes and imagines it, Thor holding the dildo instead of him, his face hovering close, watching Loki squirm, teasing him, tormenting him, slowly driving him out of his mind.

 

_Storm99: r u close bby?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes_

_Storm99: oh god_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: me 2_

_Storm99: id really have to hold bck now_

_Storm99: id want to go hard_

_Storm99: bt i wnat 2 b gentl_

_Storm99: i wnt 2 b gentl bby_

_Storm99: but im so fckng hrny im so clse_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: just fck me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: fck me hard nd deep_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: give it 2 me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: dont hold bck_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: fck me make me feel it_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: come inside me_

_Storm99: shit fuuuuuuuck_

 

And Loki grabs his cock and it’s two strokes to the head and he’s coming, biting his lip hard, grunting probably way too loud. It lasts forever, fucking hell. There’s spurts of come dripping down his fist. He never stops fucking himself, last deep, slow shoves. It burns so good, god, so so good.

 

Panting, eyes lost in space. The jerking hand squeezing the tip now, milking it. He shudders with the aftershocks, clenching around the foreign body still lodged inside him, unmoving now.

He’s sprawled there, utterly relaxed, breathing shallow, mind god knows where. It’s… whoa. What the hell is this. He’s fucking high. So _this_ is an afterglow, a proper one. He had no idea.

Ping!

 

_Storm99: u ok bby?_

 

It takes Loki a moment or two.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: very_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: very very ok_

_Storm99: :)))_

_Storm99: ws it good then?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: fuck yeah_

_Storm99: :))))))_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u?_

_Storm99: mde a total mess_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: i wish so bad u were here_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: with my warm wet pussy_

_Storm99: bby! :-O_

_Storm99: nah nows when we cuddle_

_Storm99: id hug u close_

_Storm99: we could make out slow under the sheets_

_Storm99: whisper sweet nothings_

 

Loki sighs out loud, his yearning worse now than five minutes ago.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what kind of sweet nothings_

_Storm99: idk_

_Storm99: plans for later or tomorrow_

_Storm99: how r u how do u feel_

_Storm99: how was it_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it was amazing_

_Storm99: im glad_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: & im so so fucking miserable and lonely right now _

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: me too_

_Storm99: don’t know what i’d give 2 have u in my arms right now_

 

So much for wonderful afterglows. Loki’s heart is sinking lower by the second instead.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i love you_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: i love u too_

_Storm99: it hits me like a brick wall u know_

_Storm99: when u say that_

_Storm99: leaves me reeling, shook up_

_Storm99: it means so much_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: same_

 

For a while, neither says anything. Loki doesn’t know about Thor, but he’s simply so fucking miserable.

 

_Storm99: hey! had an idea!_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what_

 

The phone starts to buzz in Loki's hand with a voice call from the dating app.

Shit! Shit shit shit! Loki hits the red button like it’s a bomb about to go off in his hand. Did Thor hear that?

 

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: baby? ok?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

 

Okay? Loki’s heart nearly fucking stopped here, and now it’s going like crazy.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: wasn’t expecting that i panicked_

_Storm99: should have warned u sorry_

_Storm99: can i call u? Can we talk?_

_Storm99: mayb we can’t meet irl but at least that_

_Storm99: id love to hear ur voice_

 

Shit. Fuck. No. Loki is still panting in terror. His brain is scrambling for excuses.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: im not ready_

 

That’s not just the best, but the _only_ thing he is able to come up with.

 

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: ok_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: sorry_

_Storm99: ok_

_Storm99: it’s ok bby_

_Storm99: it was kinda sudden i realize_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: think about it tho_

_Storm99: id like that so much_

 

Oh, Loki’s life was so fucking perfect for about three fucking seconds then. Things were going hunkydory. Couldn’t last of course, he should have seen it coming. He should have known.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: me too but_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

 

What can he possibly fucking say?

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: we’ll see ok?_

_Storm99: sure princess_

_Storm99: it would be amazing_

_Storm99: id love to hear u say i love u_

_Storm99: id love to say it to you_

_Storm99: would be amazing dont u think?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah_

_Storm99: will u think about it?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

 

Dammit, Thor. You’ll fucking ruin everything!

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah_

_Storm99: ok_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: gotta go now_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: look at the state of me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: if somebody sees me like this_

_Storm99: hmmmm_

_Storm99: i just pictured it and damn_

_Storm99: u must look so sexy_

_Storm99: fucked out and gorgeous_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u too_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99 sent a photo file_

 

Uh.

Loki opens it. His brother’s _face_ , oh his every fucking god, hair mussed up, a healthy flush, eyes dozy, a killer satisfied smirk. He’s so insanely handsome, so fucking hot. Good job Loki’s lying down, because he just fucking swooned.

With what feels like a heavy rock in his stomach, Loki suddenly comes to the realization that he’s gonna be seeing that face in the flesh in a short while, when they’re called to set up the fucking table for dinner, and they have to sit down to eat with their goddamn _parents_. Why must his life be so fucking painful and unfair. Who the fuck did he piss off in a previous life. How does he get off this ride.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: wow_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: ur out of this world_

_Storm99:_ (#^_^#)

 

That’s all he’s got.

He figures he should reciprocate, but of course he can’t just take a snapshot, can he? Motherfricking sigh. He finds one of the pics from the photo session at Darcy, sends it.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: sorry it’s not a fresh one_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: light is shit in my room sorry_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: u know i dont care about the light do u?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i do_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i have standards_

_Storm99: lol_

_Storm99: stunning pic anyway princess_

_Storm99: how many more are there?_ (o_O)

_Storm99: but we need 2 do this in the daytime some other time_

_Storm99: so u can send me a fresh 1_

 

Loki exhales from the bottom of his poor wretched heart.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: sure_

_Storm99: anyway ill let u go now_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah i better sort myself out_

_Storm99: and me_ XD

_Storm99: well i have 2 sort myself and the bed_

_Storm99: small inconveniences of being a boy_ ;)

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yeah i can imagine_

_Storm99: tlk soon princess_

_Storm99: i love you_

 

Sigh _._

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i love u too_

_Storm99: take care xxxxxxxx <33333 _

 

Effusive as a fucking Labrador.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: bye now <3 _

 

Loki stays exactly as he is, pants off, t-shirt rumpled, dildo still in his ass, cock limp on his thigh, phone in his hand, eyes lost in the vast emptiness of the ceiling.

His mind is not pleasantly empty and buzzing with happy juices anymore. It’s suddenly full of an ominous, chilled, cutting dread.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank Golikethatcat for the update. He provided the kick in the ass I was needing to sit down and finally get this done. 
> 
> Now, for the others.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor wants more than Sorrow can give him. 
> 
> "Here we go. A few days ago, Loki had still been managing to get away from that with a joke and a tease. Now Storm won’t have it. Yeah, hah hah that’s cute, but answer the goddamn question. He’s backing Loki further into the corner every fucking day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuuuh, sorry (not really. I AM AN ANGST HOE and if you made it this far in this story SO ARE YOU embrace it and revel in it.)

 

_Storm99: whats ur name? ur real name_

Loki stares at the screen for a while. They were talking about the new Star Wars and merrily hating on the prequels, and now this, out of the blue. Well, no, not out of the blue to be fair. Storm has been dropping questions like these more and more often, trying to get bits of real life information from Sorrow. Her school, her house, her family. And what excuse can Loki honestly give to keep this kind of things from him? So he lies. He lies and he lies and he lies. And he never would have thought he would hate it so much, that it would feel like a fucking piece of his soul breaks away and rots every time he tells Storm a porky.

Anyway. He needs to make something up. Uhhhh… Names. Girl names girl names girl names… _One_for_sorrow_. Magpies. Got it.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: maggie_

_Storm99:_ :)))))))))

 

Is it normal that Loki’s brain is automatically translating those strokes of black on white into a specific smile on his brother’s face? He would bet on which one it is. It’s one of the dazzlers. (…Hell, they’re all dazzlers.)

He hadn’t even realized they hadn’t asked each other’s names. Of course, Loki's never felt curious about it because he's known all along, but Sorrow would have been curious, wouldn't she? Anyway, it feels like a biggie. It definitely must be from Thor's side.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: whats urs?_

_Storm99: Thor_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: hello Thor_

 

He feels a flutter in his stomach. _Hello Thor._ Wow. That felt… Wow. (So it _is_ a biggie for him too after all.)

 

_Storm99: hi maggie, plsd 2 meet u_

_Storm99:_ (＾ｖ＾)

 _One_for_Sorrow5654: (_ －‸ლ)

 _One_for_Sorrow5654:_ XD _hi Thor plsd 2 meet u 2_

 

_Storm99: its nice 2 know ur name maggie_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: same here thor_

_Storm99: where u from?_

 

Loki exhales heavily. Rubs his eyes. That’s the thing though. That’s their problem. It’s never enough. Storm asks for a finger but what he really wants is the whole arm, and one leg or two. It gets harder everyday to change subjects.

 

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: the north_

_Storm99: north where_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: alaska_

_Storm99: really?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: no_ :P

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: why cant u tell me?_

 

Here we go. A few days ago, Loki had still been managing to get away from that with a joke and a tease. Now Storm won’t have it. _Yeah, hah hah that’s cute, but answer the goddamn question._ He’s backing Loki further into the corner every fucking day.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: why do u want 2 know?_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: u know why_

 

*Sigh*

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yes i know why_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: then u know why im not telling_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: i just_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: i just dont understand why u cant tell me_

_Storm99: dont u trust me?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: why r u doing this?_

_Storm99: what_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: we were butchering Attack of the Clones and now_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: this is important_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: not the point_

_Storm99: what do u mean not the point_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i mean_

 

Loki’s throat is choked, a lump of burning coal inside. He furiously wipes the tear starting to well in his eye.  _(I mean you’re going to ruin everything. You’re going to end us. Stop it please before it’s too late. Please, Thor, pretend none of this matters to you, please. What am I going to do without this, without Storm…)_ Loki rubs his eye until it stings. ( _You s_ _top that right now, boy.)_

 

_Storm99: whatever the problem is u can tell me_

_Storm99: i want 2 help u_

 

Loki snorts. ...Aaaaand we have a leak, the floodgates have burst open. He tries to stem the downpour single-handedly, or single-sleevedly more like. He’s fucking finished all the tissues in his bedside table, used them on we all know what. Damn.

Both sleeves. Both sleeves of his sweatshirt streaked with snot, as if he was a goddamn toddler. Oh well, he started with not a lot of dignity, and off goes what little was left.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: theres nothing 2 fix u cant help me_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: u wont even let me hear ur voice_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: bc what would that solve?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: first is my voice then its can we skype next is can we meet_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and its impossible it cant happen_

_Storm99: but why not? i dont understand_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: nothing 2 understand_

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: there has 2 b a solution_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but there isn’t_

_Storm99: if u told me what the problem is im sure we’d think of something together_

_Storm99: let me help u_

_Storm99: is it ur family?_

 

Loki snorts, blows his nose.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: in a way_

_Storm99: im willing 2 do whatever it takes. ill help u. anything_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u gonna have ur parents adopt me?_

_Storm99: shit whatever it fucking takes bby if ur family is the problem then we see it through i wont leave u in their hands i wont_

 

A few days ago, Loki would have found it in himself to laugh at that, but it seems everything about this little muddle he’s gotten himself into has ceased to be funny.

 

_Storm99: just tell me what the problem is and we’ll work something out_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i cant_

_Storm99: why cant u trust me?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i trust u its just whats the point_

_Storm99: the point is id like 2 know and u wont tell me and u wont tell me why u dont tell me_

 

Loki rubs his forehead, his eyes. Shit. So much fucking shit.

 

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: im beginning 2 think_

_Storm99:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what_

_Storm99: im beginning 2 think ur not totally honest with me in some way_

_Storm99: i mean i trust u but im starting to feel like maybe i shouldnt_

 

That finally breaks Loki down. He folds into a silent ball and bawls. His sobs shake him up as he tries to keep it quiet. For what feels like a long time, all he can do is cry.

They’ve had this conversation in one way or another several times in the last two weeks. Loki has tried to keep Storm at ease feeding him drips of vague, made up information, but clearly Thor isn’t having it. Fact is, he’ll never be satisfied, no matter what he says. He’ll never be happy with the crumbs. He is either lying to Loki, to himself, or to both of them, but he’s lying, and the fact is, it will never be enough; he’ll keep asking and asking and asking, and he will never get what he wants, and this can only end up in tears. ( _Hah_. Loki sniffs.)

For a day or two, Loki considered dropping a very big bomb, like, say, “I am a boy”. But what would that accomplish? At first, Storm would be pissed off, that’s for sure. Brimstone and lightning and a curse on both your houses. (Does that sound fun? Anyone? Thought so.) And then after that, he’d either break up with Sorrow, or he wouldn’t, because yeah, who knows (and wasn’t that an exciting perspective in Totally Insane Happyland, for a minute or two.) But after that, Thor would _definitely_ want a picture. And a name. And immediately after, back to asking to Skype. And then a location, and then a meeting. Because if that was the Awful Terrible Problem, and now it was solved... Really not a solution at all. Only a massive bump in a road that’s inevitably leading to the same fucking precipice.

 _This_ precipice. This one where Loki is sitting by, feet dangling over the edge of the cliff.

And there’s no place to go from here. It’s the end of the fucking road. The end of every road he can think of for Storm and Sorrow.

 

_Storm99: shit bby im sorry i didnt really mean that_

  _Storm99: its just_

_Storm99: u wont talk 2 me u wont tell me where u are u wont tell me anything u wont tell me why_

_Storm99: my mind goes 2 ugly places what can i say?_

_Storm99: if u could help me understand_

_Storm99: what r u so afraid of?_

_Storm99: do u think i want 2 hurt u or something?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: no of course not_

_Storm99: dont u trust me?_

_Storm99:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i do_

_Storm99: then why do u hide from me?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: princess im sure theres good reasons for everything u do_

_Storm99: i just need 2 understand_

_Storm99: im going crazy here pls_

_Storm99: maggie_

 

It takes Loki several minutes to pull himself together to a bare minimum, and for his sight to clear up sufficiently to see the fucking screen and what he’s typing.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: Thor_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: im listening princess. Maggie_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

 

God this is hard.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u dont really want 2 understand u want to know whats the problem so u can do something about it_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i only love u more 4 it i really do_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: if there was any chance at all id go for it in a minute_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: id do anything whatever it took_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but theres nothing 2 b done_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: this cant happen_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i told u from the start_

_Storm99: but why cant it happen why? there has 2 be a solution. if only u could trust me, tell me what the problem is, i swear 2 u we’d find the way theres always a way. may b hard but we'll make it happen. i'll do anything_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: pls believe me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: there is nothing in this life id want more_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: nothing_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but there is no solution and u dont need 2 know why_

_Storm99: i dont get it!!!_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it wouldnt solve anything and it would_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: what? why dont i need 2 know why?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: what at least finish that line_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it would hurt u_

_Storm99: hurt me how? why would it hurt me? i dont get it_

_Storm99: u talk in riddles all the time i dont get it!!_

 

Storm's raging despair is fucking excruciating to witness. Loki feels the exasperation and the anguish, and there's nothing he can do to ease it or soften it. Worse, he now has to twist the knife.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m so so sorry_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i wish there was something i could tell u 2 make this better_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i wish what u want could happen between us_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i want it too so so much_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: if u believe nothing else at least believe that_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but theres no way. its impossible. i wish it wasnt but thats how it is_

 

Hold on for just a few more seconds. A few more seconds, and it will be done. Deep breaths, already shuddering and wet.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: this has meant more 2 me than u’ll ever know_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i love u more than u can imagine Thor_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i hope u can forgive me someday_

_Storm99: forgive u 4 what?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: everything_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i never meant 4 this 2 happen_

_Storm99: what r u saying?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i regret all the hurt im putting u through but i cant regret whats happened  its been everything for me for these last few months its fucking changed me changed my life_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but maybe u will regret it in time_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and when that happens pls remember_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_Storm99: what_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

 

 _"That I never meant to hurt you?"_ Yes he did. Yes he fucking did. He absolutely meant to hurt his brother. That's what this was always about.

He just never fucking thought. He never stopped to actually consider... Fuck. He was a stupid little boy with a cold and bitter heart. He's a shit. There's no fucking excuse. Just because Thor was being an asshole? Big fucking crime, so is Loki one hundred percent of the time. But Thor never fucking put a plan together to wreck Loki's life. And he'd never do something like that. He'd kill him with indifference one hundred times a day, but never purposely set out to cause Loki harm. Thor will stand between Loki and his bullies again and again, knowing that he won't get a word of thanks, more like the opposite. That's the difference between them. Thor might be an asshole, but Loki? Loki is a mean, wicked little shit and he should not be allowed near decent people. He's fucking poison. How could he ever do this to his brother. How could he ever let it get this far.

But he didn't mean to break Thor's heart. Not like that. 

I mean, he never would have believed that he even could, because how can you break the heart of someone who doesn't give a damn about you? And that's the most fucked up thing about this whole story. That Loki had managed to make himself believe that Thor really didn't care for him, that he hated him even. If there's something truly unforgivable, it's this. He had not tried to see through his own fucking sense of entitlement and his self-pity, and he had let that color his perception of Thor. How did Loki fucking dare do that to him. Why can't he be a better fucking person. What's his fucking _problem_.

If somebody broke his face right now, he'd take it lying down and then say thank you. Might even make him feel better afterwards, like he'd done some atonement. _Can somebody fucking beat me up please, it would be a kindness._

Well, he doesn't deserve it, but he's been granted this one chance. 

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: im so sorry about so many things_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: none of this was supposed 2 happen like this_

_Storm99: what r u on about bby i dont even know what ur trying 2 get at. why r u saying all of this_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it wasnt meant 2 go this way_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: im so fucking sorry Thor. im sorry_

 

Loki types what follows as if instead of pushing on some keys he's carving stone, slowly, with huge effort, with meaning in every single letter. He'll only get to say this once.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: I love you Thor_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: that was never a lie. never doubt that. ever._

_Storm99:_

_Storm99: r u breaking up with me?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: im sorry_

_Storm99: no!!_

_Storm99: ill stop asking questions ill stop being a pain in the ass i swear_

_Storm99: bby pls Maggie_

_Storm99: Maggie pls pls_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: theres nothing else we can do_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: ur not happy with this as its stands_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i understand believe me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but it cant be anything else_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: if we try to keep it going this will only get more miserable and more fucked up_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u wont give up but u wont b happy_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: this was my happy place but now its not_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i dont want it 2 get any worse i want to save something from it_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i mean id never stop it if i could i wouldnt be strong enough. if it was just about me id keep going forever. it would b worth it_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but i cant give u what u want i cant give u anything else_

_Storm99: princess_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and thats not enough 4 u and i understand_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i understand but theres nothing i can do about it_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it will only get more and more fucked up u wont like me by the end of it. i would hate 4 that to happen_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: rather a sad memory than a bitter one. cant stand the thought of u hating me_

_Storm99: how can u say this i never could hate u ever_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: im sorry Thor_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: im so sorry about everything_

_Storm99: maggie please_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i hate doing this more than u’ll ever know_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i love you Thor_

_Storm99: maggie_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: good bye_

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654 has left the chat_

_One_for_Sorrow5654 is offline_

 

______________

 

It’s a rough few days. In the car on their way to school, just the two of them now, it’s quiet. 

Loki doesn’t have the words for what he’s feeling. At times, there’s just nothing, vast plains of nothing as far as the eye can see. At times he’s cringing in pain, more for Thor than himself he thinks. What a big fat cruel joke. He set out to ruin his brother’s life, and succeeded. But it wasn’t supposed to go like this. It wasn’t supposed to _feel_ like this.

Does he regret all that’s happened? When he sees Thor like that, sunken and wretched and lightless, with all his rotten black little heart, yes, he does. But then the brothers cross paths and Thor will fluff his hair, or ask about his day, or tell him to sit with him at lunch, or just smile at him when they bump into each other at home, and they haven’t fought or screamed at each other for weeks... And then warm, tender feelings soak up Loki’s heart, and he can’t regret any of that. He wonders, if Thor _knew_ , would he feel the same? After he’d finished painting the walls with Loki’s innards, that is. Would he feel that at least some of it was worth it?

 

That Friday evening, Loki walks into the den and finds his brother crying. At first he doesn’t realize what’s going on. Thor is hiding his face in his hands and his shoulders are shaking and there’s barely any sound, and it’s as obvious as can be but it just does not compute. It’s a damn fucking shock, and it rattles Loki to the bone. He can't remember the last time he saw Thor cry.

Thor hears the door when Loki pushes it closed, and pulls himself together. A sniff and a scrub and he straightens his back and goes quiet, but a few seconds later, he starts crying again. And it’s like from this point on he doesn’t care. He curls up, and weeps like a little boy, and Loki looks on, frozen.

After some time, with a dry dry throat, Loki approaches the couch, not sure if he’s allowed. He sits beside his brother.

“Hey,” he says softly. He doesn’t ask “are you okay,” because honestly? And when they do that to him it feels like they’re taking the piss. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong either, because he… doesn’t have a fucking right.

Instead, he slowly, timidly, puts a hand on Thor’s shoulder, and gives it the slightest, most timid squeeze.

Thor sniffs, takes the tissue Loki is handing him (yeah, they've been keeping a box of them in the den for a couple of years now, and Thor would sometimes make a lewd joke or something, while Loki made a point to never talk about it.) Thor blows his nose and sits back, his shoulders slumped, the very picture of dejection. His eyes are red, which makes the blue seem paler, like crystal. God, even bawling his eyes out, with streaks of snot on his fucking beard, he’s beautiful beyond words.

“She left me. Sorrow,” Thor explains, with a forced, weak, broken smile that shatters his brother’s heart to pieces.

Loki feels a burning knot tightening in his throat, his lips trembling.

“I’m sorry about that,” he chokes out. Then, just whispering. “I’m so so sorry.”

And just like that, his own tears begin to fall.

Compassion floods Thor’s expression. Poor Lo, how he loves his big brother, such a big heart, so sympathetic, so caring.

“I’m so sorry, Thor,” sobs Loki, then. He's full on bawling now, and he can't stop it.

“Hey, hey…”

Thor pulls him into his arms, and hugs him close. And Loki crumbles.

He hugs him back, clings on tight with everything he’s got, years worth of need and bereavement, and a few months worth of something else, more urgent and hungrier and more desperate. 

“What is it,” whispers Thor. By now of course he realizes it can’t be his own sentimental comings and goings that are afflicting Loki so deeply. He begins to rock him gently. He kisses his hair. He slowly strokes his back. “It will be okay,” he whispers, while Loki weeps from the bottom of his soul. “It will all be alright.”

It’s the best moment of Loki’s life. He never wants it to end. Between his brother's arms, so strong and tight and warm and true, like when they were little. He is loved here, he is forgiven, he is saved. Nothing wrong can happen to Loki here. And if only Loki could stay there forever, he'd sort himself out, he'd be fixed, he'd be better...

He doesn’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve to be consoled by the same person he’s betrayed and hurt so cruelly. He doesn’t deserve to seek comfort in his brother’s arms. The animal in him holds on with all its might, but his brain. It's like it's grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and wrenching him away. _No, mean poisonous little shit, what makes you think you have the right._

It’s the worst moment of Loki’s life. It _hurts_. It's tearing him in two. 

And so he pulls apart, still crying, and runs away.

He meant to hurt his brother. He succeeded. Now the least he can fucking do is fucking put up with the consequences. And if that means suffering like hell, well, boy, you made your own bed. One thing you _do_ get to do? Fucking lie in it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO FRICKING DRAMATIC AREN'T I? NO STOPS LEFT UNPULLED HERE. There is a full-tilt diva that lives inside me, and lives to write moments like this.
> 
> Warning: It gets worse from here. (Yes, it CAN get worse. Don't you know me by now? I can ALWAYS make it worse.)
> 
> (BUT if I tell you I know how this story ends and it's NOT a miserable ending, would you believe me?)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the shit hits the fan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready?

 

“Hey,” comes Loki’s voice, softly, from the passenger’s seat. “Wake up. We’ll be late.” His tone is kind.

Thor smiles weakly and starts the car. They pull out and drive to school in silence. True, it’s not like they used to chat before, when Thor would blare his music, and Loki would sit at the back with his earbuds in, and there would be a wall between them both, something that started building up years ago, brick by brick, without them even realizing, until they were completely cut off from each other and never talked at all, except for the constant bickering and fighting.  It’s a different kind of silence these days. The wall is gone. Thor hadn’t realized how oppressive it was, how overbearing and suffocating. He only feels it now that it’s lifted. They can lower their guard, ease up, be quiet together. The air isn’t frazzled with tension, and they aren’t waiting for someone to snap so that they can react and be the meanest, the one with the cruelest put-down, and score a shitty point. Now they can just  _ be _ . 

Loki knows what’s up too, and treads lightly around him. Not because he’s afraid of a row (at least that’s what Thor thinks), just… respecting Thor’s space, the time he needs to muddle through his woes. He’s tactful and thoughtful and kind. And it’s fucking great. Thor doesn’t have to put up a façade of normality, he doesn’t have to fake a laugh, and he doesn’t have to find increasingly more imaginative answers to his friends’ questions about what’s wrong with him. Loki doesn’t ask him anything, but Thor feels less lonely and better looked after with his kid brother than with any of his friends right now. 

That’s how it used to be, once upon a time, for a year or two anyway. Loki had overcome his illness, he was getting stronger, they were both getting older. Around eleven and thirteen. Those were the golden years. The age gap between them seemed to become smaller. They got along really well, they understood each other. They were good mates. Those summers at Aunt Ida’s farm, a couple of them were a perfect idyll. It would just be the two of them and the countryside, and they talked and talked and talked, or they didn’t need to speak a word for hours, and still everything was said. In those days, Thor had his friends, who liked him cocky and brash and boisterous, and then there was Loki. He didn’t have to fake anything with Loki, he didn’t have to push himself to try to be something he was not. They liked the same things, they laughed at the same jokes, they rolled their eyes at the same people. Soulmates.  Damn. Thor had not realized how much he missed him until… Until Sorrow.  _ Damn _ . 

He stops a bit too abruptly at the red light. He can feel his eyes beginning to sting. It’s been over a month, and he’s still a fucking mess.  He thinks about her all the time. All the time. It feels like it should be impossible to function in the world with so much of his brain space taken up by thoughts of her. 

He  _ does _ function, barely. He even manages to conceal his misery, if he tries. With his mates, for example. He doesn’t want their questions. He doesn’t want to admit this is all over a mystery internet girl that came in and out of his life and turned it upside down in less than three months and then vanished. It takes everything he’s got, though, to keep up appearances. He gets home completely shattered, and feeling so lonely. Some days he sits down with Loki on the couch in the den, and they watch something together. Gets his mind out of it for a little while. It’s good. Not everything is shit about this story. At least he has got his kid brother back.

He cries a lot, though. When he’s alone in his bedroom. When he’d be opening the chat and waiting for her to pop up. Sometimes they didn’t have a lot to say to begin with, but soon a little thing would set them off, and they'd get talking about life and death and love, and the things they liked and cared for and the things that mattered. A lot of times it was just a quick hello how are you and goodnight, but even that would keep Thor more or less sorted until next time. She was out there and they had found each other and that was all Thor needed to carry on. 

And the sex. He still gets an instant boner when he remembers. Especially after those photos and the magical set of neon pink dildos entered the scene. Whoa, the punch in his lower belly, even now. It’s not just that she’s beautiful -which she is, fucking  _ stunning _ . What a goddess, hot damn. It’s not the lingerie either, though that’s super hot too. It’s the attitude, the way she held herself in those pics, how she’d managed to… Those pics really capture the girl he knew,  what he imagines her to be in the (hmmm) flesh, the shy and the bold, the hesitant and the brazen. Those images had set his imagination on fire like nothing else before. They had him desperate to find out what it would be like to be with her in real life. How she’d come at him, determined to break through her fears, wanting him to help her through, wanting  _ him _ . Trusting him, putting in his hands all that she was, that gorgeous body and everything else, every secret thought and feeling and longing shared between them. How he’d take that trust to his heart. He’d make love to her for hours, until there was no fear and no hesitation and no walls between them. There was a “princess locked in the tower” element to it, true. There was something to being the dashing saviour of the damsel in distress. But to be fair, that princess had been weaving her hair into a long rope and was ready to jump out of the window, and that was how Thor had come to meet her, right?  _ She _ had picked him. She had come out of her shell and told him what she wanted. That princess had rescued herself. 

Makes him feel great that he’s the man she decided to trust, the one she had chosen. He… he wants to be her first in real life too. The thought that someone else might get there instead of him… Fuck, he’s never been a particularly jealous guy. Until Sorrow.

That was a turning point, Thor thinks, the photos. He had been sort of okay with this thing never being real until that moment. Real as in  _ physical _ . Before that, Sorrow was words on a screen, a voice in his head. He had pretty much stopped paying attention to the photo in her profile. She was a spirit, a thought, a feeling. A dream, even, a beautiful fantasy. He did yearn for her, he struggled with her absence, but he could deal with it. When he told her he was okay with never meeting up, Thor thinks he really meant it. It was kind of romantic, and he was okay with a bit of doomed romance in his life. It was something different. Made him feel a little bit tragic, a little melancholy; it lifted him above the drudge of everyday school routine. It was endurable. It gave him soft feelings. It  _ gave _ him something. It seemed enough.

The photos, and those fucking dildos, and what it did to the way they had sex, that blew all that romantic resignation out of the water. Now whatever this story was giving him was nothing compared to how much it was taking from him. He craved so bad, he was in fucking  _ pain _ with want. The constant realization that her actual physical body existed in the world, and that it desired  _ his _ , and that he can’t have it, that they cannot fucking have each other.  At times he had even resented her for letting him see and almost sniff the honey he will never get to taste. It was not fair to her. He knew she was in agony too.  It didn’t make it any easier for him. He  _ had  _ been in a lot of fucking pain. He had been constantly frustrated and pissed off and horny and desperate. That’s what had made him so demanding, so impatient. That’s what had made him push her too hard. That’s what had ruined everything. He sometimes blamed her too. He couldn't help it. And he hated himself for it, for these sneaky, mean feelings. It wasn't anyone's fault, was it? 

He knows he shouldn't be wallowing. He knows he should try and get his mind off it, and let go. Instead, he keeps going over the entire conversation again and again, the entire  _ relationship _ , from the very first “Hey” to the last “goodbye” and… cries like an idiot, mostly. 

Also laughs. Sighs quite a lot too. He misses her so fucking much.

And he jerks off. Jerks off to thinking about how she blossomed for him, from an awkward stumbling virgin trying to push it too hard and go way too fast, to the eager but self-possessed, irresistibly sexy thing she was at the end, confident, owning both her inexperience and her desires, confronting the whole picture face on, and willing to walk that path, with him.  To think it had been him who had helped her feel better in her own skin. That it had been him taking her by the hand and… She felt like something of his.  _ My girl. _ He had never felt so much tenderness for a girl. He had never felt so close, so… connected. Everything was different with Sorrow. Everything was a hundred times better, and a thousand times worse. 

Makes him feel guilty now, whenever he bumps into Jane at school. They were together for six months. He had told her he loved her. He had even thought at times that she was the one because she was clever and sassy and kind and sweet and honest. Because she was  _ mature _ . She seemed like the real deal, the kind of girl he should be setting his sights on. He’d really thought he was madly in love. He hadn’t had a clue. 

Even his fantasies are different, with Sorrow. When he’d fantasized about girls before, it was about how he’d chat them up, sweep them off their feet and take them to bed, and how amazing it would be, how hard he’d make them come, how they would worship him for it. If he was really infatuated, the fantasy would continue into high school hallways and between classes or whatever. That’s what it had been with Jane, before he had the opportunity to make his move. Then he had made his move and, well, reality never quite follows the script though, does it? Anyway, for what it's worth, reality is better.

But he had never before spent  _ hours _ lying in bed fantasizing about cuddling, or watching a girl breathe in her sleep. How fucking silly is that? He imagines how it would be to have Sorrow there next to him every night, and it’s not even about sex, it’s about  _ having her there _ , knowing she is happy and safe and well. That  _ he _ makes her happy. That no asshole gives her a bad time at school ever again, that she has his shoulder to cry on whenever she needs it, that she feels she can always go to him and feel at home. He fantasizes about magically teleporting Sorrow from wherever it is that she lives and right into his house, where he himself, and mom, and dad, and Loki, he guesses, would become her family, and she’d never feel lonely anymore. She could have her big sister visit even. It’s completely fucking insane, but in his dream scenarios, it’s allowed, it’s possible, and it’s perfect.

These fantasies haven’t stopped just because she’s broken up with him and disappeared. In fact, they’re more intrusive than ever. As in, he thinks of little else all fucking day long.

He’s gone over their chats with a fine-tooth comb, trying to tease out any revealing details that might have slipped in. He still does not understand why she can’t tell him anything. It won’t let him live.

_ It won’t let him fucking live.  _

He wakes up, and spends his day, and goes to sleep, thinking of little else but Sorrow. Missing Sorrow. Yearning for Sorrow. Craving Sorrow’s presence, her words, the feeling of anticipation until the moment they could chat again, and she’d be real again, for a bit. It’s not emptiness he feels inside, it’s almost a thing you can touch, that craving. It claws at his insides–it  hurts . If only he could understand  why it isn’t possible between them, now or in the future, why can’t she tell him anything, why can’t she even explain why she can’t tell him anything. And why did she seem so afraid, so alarmed, whenever he asked questions?  What is she so afraid of?  What if she’s in danger? What if she’s putting herself at risk trying to protect  him ? If only he could have a clear answer, or  _ any _ answer, for that matter. If only he could make some fucking sense of  why . A reason he could understand, something he could work with, and process, and come to accept in time. Just, something.  Anything . It’s driving him up the wall. How is he to let go? How is he ever going to get over it and put it behind him?

 

“Hey,” Loki nudges him gently.

They’ve been parked in the school lot for a minute now, Thor’s eyes and mind drifting. He gives his little brother another faint smile.

“Earth to Thor?”

Thor nods, acknowledges him.

“Go. I’ll be a minute.”

Loki returns a dim, miserable smile all of his own, but his eyes are brimming with so much love and compassion and tenderness. He’ll be sixteen next week, but right now he looks older, world-weary, like he’s been through a lifetime already, and quite a rough one at that. Thor supposes that, in a way, he has. He pulls Loki into a one-armed hug and ruffles his hair. Then a gentle shove.

“Go, smurf, you’ll be late. I’ll be out in a minute, I promise.”

Loki stares at him for another moment, his cheeks pink. That’s not right. They’re  brothers _ ,  _ goddammit. Loki shouldn’t get flustered because his big brother gives him a hug, but that’s how unusual these spontaneous demonstrations of physical affection have become between them. How stupid. Loki was always a cuddly kid. He drinks these things up, much more than words. And he looks like he needs them. They should hug more. 

Thor ruffles his hair again.

“Go,” he says softly, with a stroke/pat on his cheek, as he promises himself he’ll make a point of being more touchy-feely from now on. 

Loki grabs his bag, opens the door, and lingers. 

“You sure you’ll be okay?” He seems as eager to get on with the day as Thor. Poor baby, he never has a good time at school, does he?

“Uh-huh,” says Thor. And tries to be a better brother. “Come sit with me at lunch, yeah?”

Loki’s eyes barely brighten up. He looks pretty low all the time these days. They’ve been talking more often, but Loki keeps a lot to himself. Thor wishes he could do more for him.  

“See you later. Come on, off you go,” urges Thor.

He wants to be alone for a couple of minutes, before he has to face the world.

Loki drags himself out of the car, and shuffles away. Thor looks on for a moment, and thinks back to a boy of eight with gaps in his teeth, no hair and no eyebrows, delighted because his big brother had deigned to spend some time with him, piling up the board games on the floor, darting Thor quick looks, trying to spot the tiniest suggestion that Thor was excited about any of them, so he could pick the one. Thor would be chewing on his resentment and frustration, forced to play with Loki indoors when what he really wanted was to be out there with his mates, and he’d keep on the sour face for the duration, even if mom wasn’t there to see it and feel bad about making him do what he didn’t want to do. And Loki didn’t care, he didn’t give a fuck, he was just too happy that his big brother was there spending some time with him, for a single fucking hour of his day (Thor would have an eye on the clock.) How mean and selfish and petty. Was it really so hard, was it such a fucking big sacrifice, to play with his poorly baby brother for a little while? What a fucking asshole he had been to him back then. 

Suddenly, Thor feels the urge to run after his brother and give him a hug, a proper one. But Loki’s already disappeared inside the building he fears and hates so much. Thor wishes with all his heart that the assholes have taken the day off today, and that Loki’s time at school passes quickly and painlessly. He really really hopes so. He makes it into a little prayer.

He sighs, and pulls himself together as much as he can, and steps out of the car. Another miserable day ahead. Only one thing to look forward to: taking care of Loki a bit, make up for years and years of being a shitty brother, feeling a little better for it, and hopefully make Loki feel better too. It’s enough, he guesses. It will have to do, because that's pretty much all there is.

  
  


*

  
  


They’re at Chez Stark’s, that monster early-century mansion, allegedly working on the project for the science fair. 

It’s been five weeks now since Sorrow broke up with him. Thor still isn’t sleeping properly. In fact, it’s getting worse. He’s read the last chat again and again, and he’s now one hundred percent sure that Sorry is in some sort of danger. Why would she sound so afraid otherwise? Why would she cut off so suddenly? 

An idea she’s had from the very beginning, but discounted because, well, he didn’t have a right, now plagues his every waking hour. An idea that’s dubious from a whole array of points of view, and it involves Tony Stark.

Today he’s at Stark’s, and Thor decides to ignore all the warning lights surrounding this dubious idea of his, and jump at this chance. Enough is enough.

 

“So tell me again, from the beginning,” says Stark. “She broke up with you. She told you in non-equivocal terms she did not want to give you any personal information, not even where she lived. She  _ literally _ told you she was breaking up with you  _ because _ you were asking too many questions she could not answer. And now you want me to help you find her? How the hell is that not stalkerish?”

Thor huffs, tired of circling over the same arguments. He’s even shown Tony his last conversation with Sorrow at one point, to try and sway him. Hasn’t helped one bit.

“Tony, you don’t understand…”

“Clearly.”

“I’m concerned, alright? I mean, why can’t she tell me anything, not one thing? What is she so afraid of?”

“We don’t know.”

“We don’t know! So what if she  _ is _ in danger!”

“…She seems pretty adamant that the way to protect herself is to keep all that sensitive information from  _ you _ . What if she’s in witness protection or something, and you blow her cover? What if she’s the daughter of a mobster engaged to marry a rival mobster, and this starts a gang war? What if she’s the darling of a lesbian cult and she’ll be cast out if her sisters find out she’s been dabbling with a boy? What if…?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I don’t know! I haven’t got a clue. I’m just saying you’re doing exactly what she’s begged you not to do. What in her own words has ruined everything. What gives you the right to overrule her decision and...”

“But what if it’s too late? What if she’s already in serious shit, and she’s alone and helpless and I’m the only one who…”

“…Aaaand you’re grasping at straws. You just want her back.”

“Goddammit Stark!” Thor roars. 

Tony frowns at him. His patience, already pretty strained, has a considerable chunk cut off with Thor’s every moody outburst. 

None of this is winning Stark over to his side. Deep breaths. Calm down. Or appear calm, at least. 

“Sorry. I… Sorry. I just. I need to know she’s alright. Please. Please help me.”

Tony observes him through a suspicious squint. 

“If I help you find her, what will you do with that information,” he asks.

“…Well, if she’s really in Alaska or in Europe or in Dubai or something I can’t do much, can I?”

“What if she’s not. What if she’s one hundred miles away. What then. Will you turn up at her door, and make whatever situation she’s trying to contain ten times worse?”

The answer blossoms in Thor’s face in the shape of a thorough flush. 

“No,” he makes himself say, and tries to mean it too.

“What then. What are you trying to achieve with this?”

Good question. All Thor knows is he’s been obsessing about this for weeks now, working himself into a right state, Sorry’s silence on the chat deafening, and Thor unable to come to terms with the fact that it can be over just like that. 

And he sees Tony’s point, and he even agrees with it, on some level. An important level even. He’s been brought up well enough to know that no means no and stop means stop. He doesn’t want to be a stalker, he doesn’t want to trespass, he doesn’t want to abuse Sorry’s confidence, and more than anything, he doesn’t want to make her problems worse, whatever they are.

But he would like to be able to sleep again. He just wants to know she’s alright. He just wants to know  _ why _ . 

“I will not go knock on her door,” he pushes out, again trying to convince himself as much as Stark. “I’ll call the police. Or social services. Or something. I just want someone to-to go and check that she’s okay. That’s all.”

“What if that makes everything explode right in her face?”

“Then she definitely needs our help, goddammit!” snarls Thor.

Tony’s frown gets deeper. Thor’s temper is really, really not helping his cause. He sighs, rubs his eyes. Like he said, he hasn’t been sleeping well. He’s snappy.

After a moment, Tony’s expression softens. Thor must really look a mess.

“Listen,” sighs Tony, a long exhale, giving in. “Okay. This is what I am going to do for you. And no, you don’t get to haggle. I will try and find her. I’ll do some shady things -which I’m totally pinning on you if anything goes wrong- to find out if there’s something fishy going on. If there is,  _ I _ will call the cops, or whatever agency I see fit. But I am  _ not _ telling you where she is, or how to find her. Is that acceptable to you? Because that’s all you’re gonna get. If you’re not happy with that, get yourself another hacker.”

Thor is far, far from satisfied. But it’s a start. Perhaps if they find out that Sorrow is actually at risk, Stark will be mollified and give Thor another inch. 

And hey, who knows, maybe if they find out why Sorry was hiding, and Thor can make sense of it, he can fucking lay it to rest and get on with his fucking life. Right now, he’ll take whatever he can get.

“Okay. Do it. Please.”

Tony sighs, and sits himself down on his swanky high-end ultra-ergonomic designer swivel chair, which wouldn’t look out of place in the bridge of the Enterprise. 

“Why do I get myself into these things…” he grumbles, as he takes to the keyboard and starts tapping. “What was the name of the dating app? Your username and password,” he demands, in a toneless drone.

“This one over there, the square green icon. Storm99. Password is 'Hamm3rh3ad'. The e’s are 3s.”

Tony gives him an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment. After some tapping, in no time at all, he’s in a place somewhere in the depths of the computer, a black screen covered with lots and lots of commands in green. 

“Please don’t hover over my shoulder, thank you,” says Tony curtly as he works.

“Sorry.”

Thor takes a seat on Stark’s couch (his room is enormous; it has an entire living room on top of the usual accoutrements of a bedroom, and of course its own bathroom and even a tiny kitchen, because one would have to walk like a mile to get a glass of milk in this house otherwise, if there was only the one kitchen; they probably use segways to move around the place.)  This should take some time. Thor bounces his legs, realizes he’s doing it, makes himself stop, but in a moment his mind is wandering and his legs are bouncing again.

However, it’s not been three minutes, when Tony sits back in his chair, with a deep frown.

“That can’t be right,” he says.

Thor springs up to his feet.

“What?”

Tony does some more tapping. More commands on the black screen.

“Yyyup,” he says. “Okay. No. I don’t understand.”

“What?!” Thor is nearly out of his skin with agitation.

“The IPs. Look.”

“ _ What _ .” Thor is too wired to focus.

“Oh, for fucks sakes, Odinson. Just look.  _ Here _ . The IPs. They’re the  _ same _ .”

Thor follows Tony’s finger, pointing at a string of figures and letters on the screen. He knows basic programming, and he can code, and though he may not be a tech genius like Stark, he’s not IT illiterate. But he’s just too fucking hyped to  _ think _ . Unable to compute.

“What do you mean, the same?”

“Well,” Tony clears his throat. “Uh, three options. One, I’m making a mistake, which is not possible, not the same mistake four times, because I’ve checked. Two _ , _ your girlfriend lives in your basement, or attic, or whatever. Three, she’s a computer wiz and she’s done some seriously advanced work to cover her tracks.”

Thor is looking at Stark’s face, completely baffled.

“Or somebody is playing a very elaborate prank,” shrugs Tony.

Thor straightens up, and goes cold and rigid. It’s that word,  _ prank _ .

“Buddy, you’ve gone pale,” says Tony. “Like, seriously pale. Are you going to faint? Is it insulin related or…?”

The words come through a fog, they barely register.

It's impossible. It's fucking unthinkable.

_ Somebody is playing a very elaborate prank. _

White noise. Sparks in his eyes. 

He covers his mouth, afraid he's going to puke.

Three months of conversations, and the fucking  _ rest _ of it, running on a mad loop in Thor’s head, like laundry tumbling in a washing machine. His stomach is on a long, fast drop. 

“I’m going to kill him,” he says, flat.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, because you make it sound like I’m actually about to become an accessory to murder…” Stark’s tone is artificially light, his words rapid fire. He’s joking, but he doesn’t find this funny. He’s tense. 

Thor hears him through the fog in his brain, as he starts to pick up his things and stuff them any which way in his bag.

“Thor, my man, you’re sort of spooking me. Who do you…”

Thor is already at the door, and rushing away. Behind his back, he hears Tony mumble, “Oh shit,  _ Loki _ .” Thor is already striding down the fucking main avenue the Stark manor has for a hallway, when he hears Tony running after him.

“Thor, fucking wait a second! There has to be an explanation! What are you going to do? Calm down for a minute!  _ Odinson _ !”

Thor makes it down the stairs and through the backdoor that leads to the drive. He gets in his car.

“Oh boy,” is the last thing he hears Tony say, before he slams the door of the car. “Oh boy.”

Thor screeches back out of the drive, burning rubber, does a U turn, and speeds away.

In his head, still that loop from hell from the last three months. Things they’ve said. Things they’ve  _ done _ . The… the photos. 

He’s swallowing down with determination the urge to be sick out of the fucking window.

  
  


Screeching to a stop in their drive, slamming doors, stomping upstairs, and when he barges into Loki’s room, there he is, on his stomach on the bed, on his phone, pretending he hasn’t noticed a thing.

“Can’t you knock?” says his kid brother, feigning boredom.

Thor is shaking with an outrage so deep and terrible, he’s afraid of himself right now. He is not in control. He’s never wanted to be wrong so badly in his entire life. Terrified of what he will find, he still swoops in and snags Loki’s phone right out of his hand. 

“Hey!” Loki sits up in bed, indignant. “What the hell are you…”

Whatever Loki was saying dies on his tongue as Thor goes through the phone. Loki’s quiet now, tense like a bowstring.

Shit, no, there’s the icon of the dating app. Please  _ god _ , no. His hands shaking, Thor taps it.

And there it is, the log-in screen. And Thor is falling.

 

_ Username: One_for_Sorrow5654 _

 

There is a state beyond shock and rage and denial and horror, and Thor has crossed over to it. He’s cold from head to toe.

He looks at his brother. He wants to see complete confusion in there, maybe an angry frown. How does Thor dare or something. But Loki’s gone white, paper white. Not that.  _ Not that.  _ Thor’s stomach manages to sink even further down. It’s hard to breathe. 

Thor turns the phone towards his brother, shows him the words on the screen. 

Loki’s eyes are blown wide with fear. He’s shaking. Thor’s stomach heaves. He  _ will _ be sick.

Until the very last second, until right  _ now _ , Thor had hoped for a blank stare on his brother’s face, an unfazed expression, total incomprehension, annoyance at being disturbed. It would mean somebody had been pranking them both. Failing that, he would have taken a malicious smirk of victory, sleazy satisfaction, a quip about what an idiot Thor had been, how he’s been had,  _ hah hah, look at you, you totally fell for it didn’t you? _

What he did not expect, what he does not know what to do with, what he cannot fucking  _ endure _ , or deal with, is  _ that look _ . Loki is shivering visibly, his chest heaving with panicked breathing, his bottom lip quivering like it always does since he was a baby before he starts to cry. And he’s receding even further into an imaginary corner, like a dog used to beatings, meek, unable or unwilling to fight back, defeated before the pounding even starts. Makes Thor want to  _ scream _ .

“What the fuck did you do,” he says, a soft, dangerous whisper instead of a yell. He fears if he starts to shout he won’t be able to stop.

Loki’s eyes fill with tears; he curls up small and hugs his knees.

“You cry…?” seethes Thor. “You’re fucking  _ crying… _ ?”

Loki hides his face, and his shoulders begin to shake with quiet sobs.

“How… fucking dare you?” Thor’s voice is rising. Up and up and up. “What did you fucking  _ do _ ?  _ How fucking dare you cry now?!” _

Loki looks up, covering his mouth, eyes big and pleading, offering no answers, either because there aren’t any, or because he can’t even speak, he’s sobbing so hard.

Thor’s chest is burning with fire now.

“ _ Stop fucking crying!”  _  He’s looming over Loki, fists clenched by his sides, threatening to rise, and he’s full on bellowing. “You don’t get to fucking cry after what you’ve done!” And the rage only grows and grows inside him, making his chest swell and cave in and  _ hurt _ . He roars like a wounded beast. “What’s your fucking  _ problem _ ! Why the fuck did you  _ do _ that? What the fuck is wrong with you, you… sick  _ freak _ !”

“Thor!” comes a roar behind his back. “What the hell is going on here!”

Thor is frozen in place. Mom  _ never _ swears.

“What’s going on here!” she repeats, a yell strangled with anguish. “What are you  _ doing _ ?!” 

Thor is huffing and puffing, sobs of rage. In his mind, in a horrible tumble, all that has happened, replaying again and again. The things they’ve said, the things they’ve done, the things they’ve… Loki and him. Loki, his  _ brother _ . Thor’s face is burning hot, and his stomach is trying to turn inside out. He’ll throw up if he tries to speak now.

Mom is standing between them, her eyes glassy with shock and fury, darting from one son to the other. 

Loki is trying to hold back the crying. He looks pathetic, and pitiful, and younger than his age, just a little boy. His eyes are still wide and blank with fright.

“Will one of you tell me what is happening here!” demands their mother.

“He-he said…” Thor’s voice is thick. He feels nauseous. “He said some things.”

“ _ What _ things?!” shouts his mother, who never raises her voice. “What could he possibly have said to justify you screaming at your brother like that! Calling him that name!  _ What! _ ”

“About… about Jane,” tries Thor, scrambling for something to say.

Frigga still seems completely out of sorts, unbelieving. She turns to Loki.

“Is that true?” she asks Loki, her voice still loud, shrilling in that awful, awful silence. “What did you say?”

Loki’s eyes are unfocused, his lips pressed tight. Mom seems to take that as an assumption of guilt. He does look totally guilty.

“Why? Why in the world would you do such a mean and horrible thing? Why?!”

Loki’s lips tremble, his face scrunches up, and he goes into a fit of sobbing again. He could not reply if he tried.

For once, though, mom’s expression doesn’t soften one bit. She turns to Thor, her eyes just as hard.

“To your room, now,” she hisses to Thor. And to Loki, “You stay exactly where you are.”

She slams Loki’s door behind her, and follows Thor to his bedroom. She slams that door too. Thor starts.

She stands in front of him. It feels like she’s hovering over him, as if Thor was little again.

“Thor Odinson, I have no words,” she tries to say, her voice breaking. Somehow, that’s even worse than the screaming. Her eyes have never been so cold on him before. “How could you…?” He swallows hard. She struggles for words. “Didn’t you  _ see _ how scared he was? Did you not  _ see _ him? How could you call him  _ that _ name! Precisely that name! After all he’s been through!”

Those three months keep replaying in Thor’s head like a loop from hell. Quick flashes. Things that have been said. Things Thor has imagined. The… the fucking  _ photos _ . Oh,  _ god _ . He cannot even bear to think about it. He’s going to be sick in a minute. Thor’s blind rage is cracking and becoming something else, something much, much worse. His eyes are filling up. 

“I-I was upset.” It comes out as a hoarse croak.

“ _ Upset _ …?” she repeats, her contempt for that answer swallowing the fucking sun. It would hurt less to be slapped right across the face. “What made you so upset that you…? What can possibly justify…?” The outrage stuck in her throat won’t let her finish her sentences. “You know what, I don’t care!” she shouts, making him jump. “I don’t fucking care what he did! If you ever treat your brother like that again, you… heartless…  _ monster! _ I don’t even  _ know _ what punishment would teach you how wrong, how terribly, awfully cruel… You scared him to  _ tears _ ! Your little brother! You called him the one thing you know hurts him more than anything! That was  _ despicable _ ! Do you understand? That’s  _ unforgivable _ !”

Thor looks into space and keeps his mouth shut and takes it.

She takes several deep, huffy breaths, trying to stifle her wrath. 

“I’m going to speak to your brother now,” she says, her tone controlled, but seething. “You stay exactly where you are, and start thinking about how you’re going to apologize for what you said to him. I don’t care what he did.  _ Nothing _ justifies what you called him.”

And she slams the door again behind her back.

The moment he is alone, the cracks in Thor’s solid armor of shock and fury break through completely and crumble at his feet. That armor was the only thing keeping him upright. He plummets onto the chair with shaky knees. He’s panting, struggling for breath. He doesn’t even know what he’s feeling. Among the confusion and the anguish and the shame and the horror, some thoughts stand out, flashing bright, like light caught in a blade just before it sinks in. 

Loki is Sorrow. Sorrow is Loki.

The things they’ve said. The things they’ve  _ done _ . 

The things he’s said to  _ Loki _ .

The things he’s done with  _ Loki _ .

He covers his mouth with both hands, and swallows hard. He’s going to puke. 

Then another realization sets in. 

Sorrow doesn’t exist. She’s gone. She was a fiction all along.

_ Sorrow does not exist. _

The stab of grief takes him by surprise and leaves him breathless. The sudden, shattering emptiness, the terrible end of all his hopes. 

This is it. This is how it ends between Storm and Sorrow. 

To think Thor believed he knew real pain because missing and craving was painful. He had no fucking idea. 

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, not finished with this yet. Actually, it's only just begun.
> 
>  
> 
> PS: Dear "Update soon" people. Thank you very much for reading, for commenting, for your enthusiasm, really, thank you so much, I appreciate it. But YOU JUST /HAD/ AN UPDATE!! This shit is HARD!!
> 
> May I suggest you try "I'll be waiting for the next update" or even "I can't wait for the next update" if absolutely necessary. I'm also considering having a tip jar in my blog. I WILL try harder for money.
> 
> That is all.  
> Love,  
> A grateful but slightly harassed writer <333


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The post-mortem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (caressing night DJ voice) *this one is for all you angst hoe's out there* (presses play)

 

Loki is still curled up on the bed, hugging his knees. He feels as if he is at the bottom of the crater of what used to be his house, after a bomb went off and destroyed everything he knows, everything he loves. A bomb he planted himself. Even his hearing is dull.

Time runs weirdly too. So many things swarm his mind. So many. A bloody avalanche of them, all spinning around this axis: _Thor knows_.

He’s not crying now. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling. Like he went up in flames inside when Thor barged in and started screaming, and now he’s just… dead wood, ashen, smoking, hurting. _Thor knows._

His door bursts open and his mom comes in.

“What did you say about Jane?” she asks, cutting as a whip.

He blinks uselessly. He can’t think of what to say, something that would be bad enough, terrible enough, to measure up with the truth, and justify the fuckfest she walked into. What a pathetic, miserable picture he must cut -in spite of it all, her eyes are softening.

“Why?” she asks, and now she sounds disarmed, confused.

“I-I was angry at him,” murmurs Loki, surprised when his voice breaks with a sob.

She is heartbroken. It’s hard to look at her knowing that he’s the one who put that devastated helplessness on her face. Would it be preferable if she knew the truth? To be looked at in horror and disgust, rather than _this_?

“I don’t understand you,” she says, her voice failing her, choking. “Either of you. I’ve watched you drift apart all these years, I heard the appalling things you called each other, always bickering and fighting, so petty, so cruel, like you… Like you had never loved each other, like you couldn’t remember a time when you weren’t always together and the best friends in the world. And I had to tell myself that these were kids’ things, that there was nothing I could do, that all I could do was wait for you to grow up and out of it. But this, this is some new level of…” She shakes her head as if all she can find sense for is denial. “What makes you both so… so awful? You used to be so close. Where have we failed you?”

Loki’s lips and chin are quivering. This is even fucking worse than he predicted. He can’t endure his own shit, and Thor’s, and hers too. Tears start falling again, and they feel heavy and thick as oil.

With deliberation, she shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath to pull herself together. Then she turns a hard, cold stare at him.

“Stand up. You’re going to apologize to your brother.”

The shaking starts immediately. He turns a pleading look to her. _Don’t make me._

“Come on,” she insists, ruthless. “Up you get.”

There’s no point arguing; her mind is made. She can see he’s absolutely terrified, but probably she thinks she can protect him from a repeat of the kind of shitstorm she walked into.

The walk to Thor’s room is eternal and over too soon. Loki is shaking badly by the time they get there. His mother’s clutch on his arm, iron at first, is now a gentler hold, supportive even. She knocks on the door.

“Thor, please come out,” she says, her tone calm and cold with authority, not taking a ‘no’ for an answer.

Loki feels like he’s waiting with his head on the block for the blade to drop. _I’m sorry, Thor._ He cannot possibly fucking say that. What is he even going to say?

The door opens wide. Loki sees feet. He can’t look up for the life of him, his shakes on the pathetic level now. He’s cowering back, away from his brother. He can sense Thor’s anger without even seeing his face.

“Loki, have you got anything to say to your brother?” urges his mother.

Loki swallows down several times. This situation is not new. They’ve been reenacting variations of this very same ritual ever since they were little. But there are new impediments now. He is trying to come up with the wording.

“I’m s…” Shit. “I regret what I…” Shit, he’s going to puke. “I regret what I said and-and what I did.” He’s wringing his hands. He wants to cover his face, put something between himself and the brother he can’t look at.

Thor’s long silence has an ominous, terrifying quality.

“Thor?” says mom. “Have you got anything to say?”

Oh, the terrible, terrible silence, made even more dreadful by what Thor says next.

“ _Sorry_ ,” he says, so cold it cuts, seething. “ _Sorry_ I screamed at you.”

God, that mean, spiteful emphasis, leaves a burn like after a hard slap.

“What else?” prompts mom.

(Please, no more.)

“ _Sorry_ for what I called you,” Thor says. “ _Sorry_.”

Loki dares look up now, and he immediately wishes he never did. Thor returns his stare, and in those eyes there is a stranger who never loved him or cared for him, and hopes he fucking burns in hell, alone. Loki starts crying again. His brother’s cruel, icy stare doesn’t temper one bit; the clench in Thor’s jaw gets tighter. He’d roar if he could. He’d grab Loki, and shake him, and make him _hurt_.

“Fine,” says mom. She’s far from satisfied with that, or appeased, but she’s uncomfortable. “Your phones,” she says. “I’m rescinding your internet and TV privileges until further notice. You’re going to stay in your rooms until I say so, and think about how being a pair of mean, horrible bastards to each other is making _me_ feel.” She sounds more resolute now, her confusion gone. She’s found a way through this. She’s mom in charge again. It’s a fucking relief.

Loki shuffles to his room.

“I don’t want to hear one word from either of you,” she warns, before the doors are closed. “Not one sound.”

 

***

 

It’s eerie in Loki’s room, as it if was his first time in a new place. The silence outside is deafening, like the world is making a willful effort at being quiet, like something is crouching in the darkness, stalking him. Up until a few days ago, Loki would have claimed that he had already experienced the worst night of his life, several times over. Stupid self-deluded summer child.

He really, really hopes he’s got it right this time. He can’t imagine feeling worse. He’s lying on top of his bed, fully dressed, on the covers, shell-shocked. His brain is presenting him with a series of horrifying outcomes, one after another. Thor tells mom and dad, and Loki gets sent away, or child social services get involved, or therapists. Or Thor never tells a soul, and the abominable secret grows and grows between them, festers and rots, until Thor finally takes it out on Loki’s face, or Loki runs away from home to live in the gutters somewhere.

How the fuck is he going to get through this? There is no chance, not one remote possible scenario in which things get resolved, not without an insurmountable amount of pain and humiliation that leaves a trail of destruction behind so deep and messed up, that it will take the whole fucking family down.

That is the humdrum, the background noise in Loki’s head. Every now and then, there comes a spark that shakes him up, a specific memory. The things Thor must be going over and over and over right now. The things they’ve said to each other. The things they’ve done while talking to each other. The… The first time. All the first times. The flirting. The words of love. The photos, oh his fucking god. He made Thor send him _dick pics_ , or as close as. And Loki’s pulse and heartbeat goes insane, and he trembles all over, and he expects his brother at any moment to come barging in to fucking kill him, put those big hands around Loki’s chicken neck and squeeze, look him in the eye for every second of it - _you made me do all those things, you're making me do this too_.

 

Later on, in the middle of the night, there’s some noises outside. Slight treads on the wooden floorboards of the hallway, and then down the stairs. The world is so quiet, Loki can even hear patting on the kitchen tiles, someone opening the fridge, and rummaging inside. Thor must be hungry.

Maybe he’s imagining it. He really feels very weird. Off-balance.

What must Thor be feeling? How dirty, how sick, how betrayed? How… embarrassed? After all those years unable to spend two minutes together without fighting, throwing cruel jabs at each other, and being complete and merciless assholes, they had each other back. Are they ever going to be able to even look each other in the eye again?

And it all comes back to him now -every single time Loki thought he should end this thing, every time he felt that shiver of unease, of getting into something that was fucked up beyond repair; how many warning lights, how loud the danger sirens. And how he ignored every single one of them. And he can’t understand how or why. Did it feel good enough to justify what he is feeling now? Did it?

He remembers crying in his brother’s arms only a few days ago. He remembers how it felt, being held like that, Thor rocking him and shushing him, kissing his hair, mumbling soft words to soothe him. And none of that would have happened without Sorrow. What he felt for Thor, what he feels for his brother even now, as fucked up and sick and confusing as it surely is, he would have never known it without all those stupid decisions and impulses he indulged, one after the other.

Then again, he wouldn’t be feeling either this fucking breathless shrieking pain inside because it’s over. He would have never known what he was missing. Fuck, he doesn’t even know what he would pick if a genie materialized in his room right now and gave him the choice.

Not that it matters. It’s done. Can’t be undone. The things they’ve confessed, the jerking off to each other’s words, the love. One second Loki swears he would rather cut off his own hand than give all of that up, and the next second he remembers that  _this has only just fucking started._ That the horror continues tomorrow. That there is no clear end in sight, only more pain and wretchedness and awkwardness and despair. That this is their reality now. And if he thought he’d had it rough before… Yeah, how about we postpone the grandstanding for a few weeks, or even just a few days, and ask Loki what he’d ask the genie for then.

His backstabbing, self-sabotaging mind takes him back again to a few days ago, to Thor’s arms. All that tenderness and protectiveness, unguarded and selfless and fucking brimming with love, singing and dazzling with it. How very fucking unreal, thinking this is the last time Thor will ever fucking touch him, the last time he’ll ever treat him or look at him like an older brother would—the last time their relationship was untroubled and free, innocent, no dark, rotten stain tainting it all. The last time they talked with affection. The last time he got to hug Thor.

And Thor will look back on all of this, the last few good months of their fucking lives as brothers, and second-guess it all. Once he’s done, there will be nothing left standing. If this has mattered to him at all, he’ll feel betrayed. And he damn well should, because that’s what Loki did. Stole his trust, his affection, his confidences, his secrets, and then on top of that Loki went and poisoned it all with… wanting to fuck his own fucking brother.

And what’s fucking worse, he still does.

He still fucking wants to fuck his brother, god help him. And he never will. He rolls onto his side, and silent tears fall down his cheeks. His eyes are open, seeing nothing. 

 

The light outside is turning white. Loki observes its watery, wan quality change as it reflects on his hand. It’s like waiting for his execution, time dragging, and yet minutes are trickling through his fingers like a handful of sand, and he cannot stop them. The morning is coming, the time to get up and get out there and face the world as it is now. The world in which Thor _knows_.

He hears movement in his brother’s room. Then steps down the stairs, then a door slam. Then Thor’s car driving away.

He sometimes does this before a big game, train first thing in the morning. But that’s not what this is about, is it? On the one hand, it’s a reprieve. Loki won’t have to face him over breakfast. On the other hand… Shit. Not that he had any illusions about how Thor was digesting this, but shit. Yeah, perhaps he was expecting Thor drilling him with a stare of burning hatred over the breakfast table, and then giving him the silent treatment in the car. It would have been a relief. Quite merciful, actually. But it seems that Thor can't even see him. Can't, or doesn't want to. Perhaps he doesn't trust himself around Loki. Perhaps he fears what he might do if he has his little brother standing in front of him. Or perhaps he just... can't. What weighs more, the betrayal, the lying, or Thor's repulse and disgust? Perhaps Loki was holding onto a thread of hope after all, that he would get to find out this morning. Stupid boy.

 

In any case, this means Loki needs to get his ass in gear sooner rather than later, because he’ll have to get the bus to school today. Can you fucking believe it? After yesterday? He’s still expected to get up, put on some clothes, go to school, get on with his life? How? I mean, fucking _how_?

If only he could just disappear. Vanish. Walk away, be gone. No trace. Never been here, never been at all.

He can’t deal with this today. He can't deal with this, _ever_.

 

“He left without you!” He finds mom seething in the kitchen, whirling around in her usual morning rush. “I’m going to fff… kill him!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Loki mumbles.

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll give you a ride,” she says, taking a big bite of her toast, and gulping coffee in a hurry.

“No, mom, it’s okay, I’ll take the bus.”

“ _No_ ,” she says. “I’ll give you a ride. Be ready in ten minutes and get in the car.”

Sigh. 

"Okay, mom."

 

Stuck in traffic. She took the more direct, shorter route through F Street, where three big lanes converge. Thor knows to avoid it. He goes through the suburbs. It’s longer, but no jams.

“I swear I’m going to kill your brother later. I had a surgery first thing this morning,” she grumbles, repeatedly checking her watch, and the car clock, _and_  the hour on the phone, just in case one of them can throw a ray of hope on what time she’ll be getting to work today.

“Please, forget it,” Loki says softly, a whisper. “It would have been bad, like, really bad, the two of us alone in the car.”

She turns to him as if he’s a suspicious stranger, and alien. Then a honk supersedes her concern with early-day road rage. She even slams the wheel in frustration when the light turns red right in front of her. She is not herself this morning. It’s fucking scary.

“You realize I can’t drive you to school every day!” she snaps, forgetting he never asked her.

“I’ll manage,” he mumbles.

The way she looks at him then, full of compassion, worried sick.

“Honey, what did you _do_?” she pleads.

Loki’s face scrunches up, his chin wobbles. _Please, mom…_ He wipes his eyes hard, and shakes his head. He couldn’t talk if he tried.

“I don’t get it,” she says, softly, and wipes away her own tears.

 

***

 

 _I must be in shock,_ thinks Loki all through the first couple of periods. He’s entirely apathetic. No anxiety, no panic, nothing. He can concentrate normally, follows the class (like an automaton, true, but an operational one), and just… gets on with things. He starts to hope that he’ll be able to get through the day without anyone noticing the mess in his life and in his mind.

But then, in the corridor, making his way to his third period, he hears the gruff, deep voice he knows so well. And just like that, he has to dash to the restrooms.

At first he thinks he’s going to shit himself. Then he retches dry over a stinky toilet bowl. When he’d done retching, he starts crying.

A rap at the door. Loki jumps, and sits very still, covering his mouth to stifle his sobs, cowering in the corner.

“Hey, what the fuck are you up to in there, freak?”

He cannot do this today. God, please, fucking lend a hand here, he’s stretched to breaking point as it is already.

He doesn't talk back, he doesn't have it in him. He stays quiet and still and begs for this to go away. 

Then God lends a hand.

“Move along, nothing to see here,” comes a girl’s voice, snappy tones, no shit taken. This voice she recognizes. It’s Darcy.

“Hey, this is the men’s room!” protests the other voice Loki can't identify.

“Oh, is it? I don’t see any men here, just you," Darcy says. She keeps firing. "If snotty fuckwads like you are allowed, then so am I. I mean, I'd qualify over you on grounds of body hair alone. How old are you even, twelve? Have your balls dropped at all? Clearly not. Come on then, you deaf as well as prepubescent? Off you fuck! There’s a good boy.”

And in spite of everything, Loki grins, for a moment.

“Hey, sweetie, it’s me,” she whispers by the door. “It’s safe now, there’s no one here. Come on out.”

Loki’s grin is gone, the world is back on his shoulders, crushing him.

“Loki, baby, come on out. It reeks in here. Let’s go somewhere else. Open up, come on.”

 

When he finally opens the door, she doesn’t ask and she doesn’t comment. They walk to that nook behind the changing rooms, she hands him a smoke, and lights them both together.

“So?” she finally asks.

He’s been thinking what he was going to say all the way there.

“Broke up with Storm,” he says flatly.

“Aw, sweetie.”

“The distance thing wasn’t working out.”

She doesn’t question it or doubt it. Why would she.

“Aw boo, I’m so so sorry. It happens sometimes. It’s hard.” She strokes his face, cups his chin. For a second, Loki thinks he’ll cry again, but it passes. He pulls a long drag. He stares into space.

“So, did he break up or you?” she asks.

It _hurts_. Like something physical just clenched and twisted inside.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says, his voice a raspy, difficult whisper.

She nods. “Okay.”

They smoke in silence for a bit.

“Wanna come to mine after school? We’ll watch chick flicks and tear people down. It will be fun.”

“I don’t know,” whispers Loki.

“Or we can watch gay porn and eat popcorn. Oh, look there, made you almost smile.”

For all of two seconds. Then it fades away.

“Not up to it,” he says. “Maybe some other time.”

“Okay. But hey, you still have the dildos, right? So there’s one good thing you got from this relationship!” she says, always sparkling.

“Yeah,” he concedes, because he’s too tired to argue. “At least that.”

 

***

 

When school is over, Loki sits the first three buses out in the library, barely making sense of what he reads. Whenever he thinks of going home, he gets that horrible sensation, like his insides are being sucked out of him from within.

The library is shutting down. Shit. Loki picks up his things and drags his feet to the bus stop.

He’s alone in there. He should read, or listen to some music, or something. Try to get his mind off of things, stop going over and over and over them again. He doesn’t. He can’t.

The bus pulls up in front of him, opens the doors, and waits. Loki starts to physically shiver. He can’t make himself get on it.

After a while, the driver shrugs and moves on. Loki stares after it with relief.

What are you going to do, stupid boy, stay here forever? He obsessively scratches his forearm until there’s a pinprick of blood. He doesn’t know what to do. He knows what he _has_ to do, but he simply can’t make himself do it.

An expensive black car pulls up in front of him. The tinted window rolls down. Tony Stark leans over from the driver’s seat.

“Hey, Odinson. Do you need a ride?” Before Loki gets to say anything, he adds. “I owe you a few favors, believe me. Hop in.”

A suspicious silence.

“What do you mean, you owe me?” asks Loki.

“Just… get in, I’ll tell you in the car. Please?”

Stark smiles, showing teeth, looking sheepish.

_What are you going to do, stupid boy?_

Sigh. It's a reprieve. He'll take it.

 

Stark drives in silence, no Sinatra this time. Loki meant to ask him what he was on about before, but he forgets very soon. Now all he can think about is the shit pit waiting for him at home. Facing mom. Facing Thor.

He has some serious shivers like he is running a fever, and he feels like he might shit himself any moment now.

They’re still a couple of streets away when he grabs Stark’s arm.

“Please, I can’t go there. Can we go somewhere else?”

Stark gives him a soft look. Loki must look as green and wan and sick as he feels.

“Sure enough. Wanna come to mine?”

“Anywhere. Anywhere but my place.”

They drive on.

 

***

 

Stark’s place. The house is dark and full of echoes, like a lonely mausoleum. Does he live in there all alone? Where is everyone? Any other day, Loki would have questions, he would be curious. But today he sits on Stark’s couch, occupying the least possible amount of space, and accepts an actual mug of hot cocoa he is handed.

“It’s nice,” he mutters. His throat feels prickly. There was a bad a draft where he was sitting in the library. He might be coming down with something, on top of everything else. 

Stark sits on the coffee table, opposite Loki, also with a cup of cocoa.

“So,” he says.

“So,” murmurs Loki.

Stark scratches the back of his neck for a long, long time, then he empties his mug in three big gulps, then he hops to the kitchenette again, gets himself some nuts.

“Want anything to eat?”

He’s already offering Loki a bag of dry fruit.

“No, thanks.”

He’s edgy. Loki squares him down with a look.

“What is it?”

Stark gives his own hair a good ruffle, and crosses his arms tight. Tense as fuck.

“So, you’ ve had… not a great day, have you?”

Weird way to phrase the question.

“Had better,” says Loki, suspicious. “Why?”

“Nothing. I just. Uh. I feel a bit… I’m-I’m sorry about that. Sorry.”

A long, unblinking stare. “What the fuck are you on about, Stark?”

Stark stands there shifting his weight from foot to foot, pointedly looking down. He’s avoiding Loki’s eyes.

“I kinda feel a bit responsible for that.”

“How? Why?” Loki’s heart is beating faster, not sure why yet.

“Uh. Your-your brother. He’s not that tech savvy.”

Loki goes stiff and white at the mention of Thor. The pieces are falling in, forming a shape he can’t recognize yet, but it’s already upsetting the cocoa in his stomach.

“What the fuck are you saying,” he mutters.

Tony clears his throat. “Thor came to me for help yesterday and I. Uh. I didn’t know what was about, but.” He risks the meekest little glance. “He-he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Loki must look like a deer caught in the headlights, frozen there, panicked. The shakes are back. Breathing is getting harder.

Stark goes on a quick-worded tirade, like somebody’s timing him.

“Look, I have no idea what this is about. Thor told me he was super-worried about his online girlfriend, that he feared she was in danger or something, and asked me to help him find her. I told him no way, that she’d told him to leave her alone, but he insisted, and I told him I’d have a rummage, I wasn’t sure exactly where I’d look, but anyway. I told him I’d find out if there was something to be worried about, maybe some, I don’t know, police report or social services or something, and if there seemed to be, I’d get in touch with somebody. Anyway, he said okay to that, but when I started looking for her, I… It didn’t take as long as I thought it would.” Here comes the meek glance again. “And I think I… Well, Thor was very very upset when he left. Today he’s been avoiding crossing eyes with me, and you look like… well. I knew I should have told him to suck it up and leave her alone, but it wasn’t for the reason I thought, right?”

Color has been steadily draining from Loki’s face as Stark talked. The implications of what he’s just heard, however, fall on him all at once, like a bucket of ice water. He surges up as if on a spring, grabs his bag, his jacket, and practically stumbles onto his face when he tries to run through the couch. He makes for the door. The room stretches miles ahead in front of him.

“Odinson! Odinson, wait,” Tony goes after him.

The shakes and the panic make Loki as clumsy and fumbling as a toddler.

Tony’s right beside him, his hands up in appeasement.

“Odinson. Loki, come on.”

Loki is going to break the handle, he’s yanking that hard.

“Don’t… Wait a minute. Wait!”

Tony’s hand on his. Loki freezes, snatches it away and backs off. He faces Tony, panting.

“What!” he cries. “Want to look at the elephant man?”

“What? No!” protests Stark, confused.

“What then!”

Tony makes to step closer, Loki makes to step back. Tony stays where he is, still holding up his hands, as if Loki would suspect he was armed or something otherwise. Loki pants in fear.

“Listen,” says Tony softly, “you look like you’ve had a really shit day. And it’s my fault, at least a bit. And I… I think you’re nice, and I just want to lend a hand, okay?” He risks stepping closer. “Okay?”

Loki can’t help the little flinch.

“What do you _want_ ,” he asks, brutal. Nobody gives something for nothing, and he knows what Tony wants from him. 

“I just told you,” Tony says, still softly. “You looked like you needed… someone, I don’t know.”

Loki’s not convinced yet. 

“I bet you haven’t eaten anything today,” says Tony. “Why don’t we sit down and order in a pizza? I’ll drive you home later. Yeah?”

Sure. Never attempt blackmail on an empty stomach. _Buy him dinner first._

“I’m not hungry,” snaps Loki.

“You can just sit down and watch me eat then.” Tony smiles. It’s a nice smile, unthreatening, means well. It’s a “can Tony come in to play” kind of look, meant to put mothers at ease.

And Loki is just… he’s so fucking tired. Being on the verge of a nervous breakdown for hours on end takes a lot out of a person.

So he’s not convinced yet that Tony won’t make his move on him later, but he’ll cross that bridge when they get to it. Right now, he could do with sitting down, postpone going home for a bit longer.

“Okay,” he sighs.

And he shuffles to the couch, and plummets onto it.

 

The pizza arrives and it smells really good. Turns out Loki is hungry after all. They eat.

They don’t speak. Loki keeps his eyes low, just in case Stark wants to flirt or something. Stark keeps topping up Loki’s water glass solicitously, like a waiter earning his tip—from the same jug he’s drinking from, so it’s probably _not_ spiked. And if it is, who fucking cares. Loki is past this, and so much more. 

 

 

He calls Frigga at one point, to check in.

“He’s helping me with math,” lies Loki. “He’ll give me a drive home later” _(after he’s tried to extort sexual favors from me in exchange for his silence, probs.)_

There’s a long silence at the other end of the line. It’s not like she's stupid, or that she has forgotten about everything that went down yesterday.

“ _Alright,"_ she finally says. " _But you need to be home by ten. Sharp. Okay?”_

“Sure, mom.”

 _“Love you, darling,”_ she says. Which she always says. It’s how she usually ends all their phone conversations. But today, for some reason, Loki’s eyes fill with tears when he hears it.

“Me too,” he mumbles.

 

After he hangs up, he decides to face the situation at hand up front. Tony is giving him that calm, warm look.

“Is it now when you threaten to tell the world everything you know unless I blow you?” snaps Loki.

Which does away with the calm warm look on Tony’s face, sure enough. A deep, hurt, indignant frown is there instead.

“What the fuck…? Do you really think…?” Poor Stark is so offended he’s lost for words. “How can you say something like that to me?”

Loki does not put his guns down immediately. He weighs Stark's protestations with care. As he examines the display of outrage on that smooth baby face, he notices for the first time the dimple on Stark's chin. 

"I'm sorry," he says, after a long time. "I'm not good at... People have been mean to me before. I'm sorry."

 That does not unscrew the frown on Tony’s face.

"I talk shit when I... Actually, I talk shit all the time. I'm really not nice to be around," Loki adds. "I didn't mean that. I don't think I did, anyway." Sigh. "And I appreciate it. You driving me here, letting me stay, the food. I do. I mean, thanks."

“Okay,” says Tony eventually. Now his frown is heavy with concern instead. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“What.”

“The thing with your brother.”

“Fuck, no,” jumps Loki. And again, Tony’s look of genuine concern, like he really cares, manages to soften Loki. “I mean. Thanks, but. I wouldn’t even know how or… No. I can’t.”

“Okay,” says Tony. “If you change your mind... Well, you know.”

_Sure. You’ll listen, and then you’ll kick me out of the house for extreme perversion. Or you’ll get your butler to kick me out, more like. Or the security guards. With latex gloves._

“Thanks,” he says instead.

At which point Loki is not hungry anymore. What he is is beyond tired. Tony's couch is so cushy and warm, and horizontality calls, and Loki doesn't even want to resist. He curls onto his side, burrows in, and his eyes just fight to shut down.

“You feel okay?” asks Stark softly.

“Got a headache.”

And one moment later, he opens his eyes to a pill and a glass of water, which he takes gratefully.

“Have a nap if you want,” suggests Tony, still whispering.

And no, this time Loki does not suspect he might be molested in his sleep.

“Gotta be home by ten,” he says anyway.

“You have a little more than an hour. I’ll wake you up. Sleep.”

“Better not,” mutters Loki. But his eyes refuse to open up again, and then Stark dims the lights, and he’s gone.

 

***

 

The drive home is quiet. Tony plays music. Jazz. It’s nice.

Loki’s mood is funereal. But the food, the nap, and… Tony, it must be Tony. Tony _knows_ , or he knows enough to work out a strong case against Loki, and instead of pelting him with rocks and shit, he’s giving him rides and feeding him pizza, and letting him nap on his couch. Yeah, Loki's a bit better.

Make no mistake, this is still a funeral, and Loki is still in deep mourning. But the urge to rip off his tunic to shreds and throwing ash on his hair seems to have let up. He’s at the wake now, contemplating the open casket surrounded in flowers, while the other mourners come in and give their condolences. He’s serene and collected and utterly dead inside, the rest of his life stretching ahead of him, grey and dusty and empty. He doesn’t have it in him to make any more displays. No more crying. No more bargaining either -if only he’d done this, or that, or hadn’t done this, or that other thing. If only, if only, if only. There’s no getting away from this, there’s no turning back time. No more despair, just hopelessness.

They turn the corner, and there it is—the house, Thor’s car in the drive. Some of the queasiness returns, but it doesn’t spike sharply like earlier. It's unpleasant rather than crippling.

Tony pulls up. Loki stays put, hugging his backpack, eyeing the front door of the house anxiously.

“Will you be okay?” says Tony eventually.

Loki tilts his head and his eyebrows in a “seriously?” look. Tony smiles a little. Loki almost smiles back.

“Want me to pick you up tomorrow morning?” Tony asks.

“It’s not exactly in your way, is it?” murmurs Loki.

“S’okay. Bit of a detour. I don’t mind.”

That soft tone and easy kindness and chill. It’s like rubbing a cooling peppermint balm on a bad bruise. Loki does not deserve it, but he _will_ fucking take it, and run with it.

“Yeah. Yes, please,” says Loki.

“Okay then,” says Tony, cheery. “Can I have your number? To synchronize watches, all that.” Is he blushing?

“I can give you my number, but my mom has confiscated my phone,” says Loki.

“Has she? Why?”

Loki gives him another _look_ , and more eyebrow.

“Right,” says Tony, grinning. “Still, can I have it? Just in case you get it back…? I mean, it’s okay, if you don’t want to.”

Loki gives him his number. Tony begins to sparkle.

“Okay! Gotcha. I’ll text you when I’m leaving the house, so you know when to… That is, if you’ve got your phone back. And… you can text me or call me or whatever. Tomorrow, or tonight, if, or. I, uh, I mean, no problem. Whatever.”

“Okay,” says Loki gently. And the _Can You Fucking Believe It_ Award goes to Tony Stark for finally making Loki properly smile today.

 

Three steps to the porch, two steps to the door, three steps across the hall. The living room to the left, the dining room and the kitchen to the right, the stairs right ahead. Why does it feel so alien and threatening, like he’s never been here before, like he only knows the place from plans and sketches, and knows it to be riddled with traps and alarms. He wishes he could squirrel his way to his room unheard and undetected. He wishes he didn’t have to see or talk to anyone.

 

The TV is on. Sounds like the news. Dad is snoring.

“Loki?” His mom’s voice.

 _Damn_.

“Yeah,” he says, quietly.

He drags his feet to the living room. Mom is working on her laptop. They look at each other. Loki must look a right mess, judging from her expression—wretched, alarmed.

“Did you eat?” she asks.

“We had pizza.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment that feels an age, but her face is animated with what’s going on inside. She seems desperate to say something, but she either doesn’t know what, or doesn’t know how.

“You seem tired. Go to bed,” she says in the end.

And it’s both a relief and a heavy burden in his stomach. It takes him back to being little and having no hair and no eyebrows, and catching her crying by herself in her room, and not understanding much at all, except that it was his fault.

He understands more now. This time, it is, without a doubt, his fault.

He begins to make his way out.

“Hey!” she calls.

And Loki is sixteen years old, and has had one fucking hellhole of a day, but he still finds it in himself to smile a little, because his mom won’t let him go to sleep without giving him a kiss first. At least that hasn’t changed. Thank fucking god.

Her hands on his face are strong and good. Her eyes are concerned, but kind. He soaks in her love, that he does not deserve, but right now he needs more than air. She kisses him once on the cheek, once on the forehead, pressing strongly with her lips. Probably checking his temperature while she’s at it, multitasking. She has this way of petting his face when she’s holding his head like this. It’s just, it’s so _mom_.

“Go to sleep quickly, okay? Don’t stay on your phone until late.”

“I don’t have my phone,” says Loki.

She rubs her eyes.

“It’s in the top drawer of my bedside table,” she says.

“Can I have it back?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m still very upset about all this, though,” she warns. “We’re not done yet.”

“I know.”

She sighs.

“Okay. Off you go.”

 

Soft thuds and whines coming from Thor’s room—music, not too loud. Probably mom or dad told him off about the volume.

Even Loki’s own room is a hostile place tonight. His brother is just behind that wall, disgusted by him, furious at him, hating him. That wall seems too flimsy to protect Loki from the all that hatred and hurt. Not that he deserves to be shielded from it. He had no mercy for Thor when he had the chance, and he had so many. Why should he hope or expect anything different in return.

 

He doesn’t look at his phone at all. He takes off his shoes, and he slips under the covers, fully dressed, and hopes that sleep comes soon. He’s exhausted, drained, a bag of bones.

And as he snuggles in his bed with a pillow covering his ears, trying to create a little void chamber, he examines the emptiness inside as if he was a vast barren landscape. At least it’s not a terrifying stormy night sea or a poisonous swamp.

It’s not quite a desert. Life was there recently enough. A terrible catastrophe flattened out the horizon, turned everything to ash. But at least it’s quiet.

 _Thor_ _knows_. The secret’s out. The worst that could happen has happened. He doesn’t have to fear it anymore.

You know what else is there, in this devastated place? Relief. This is rock bottom. It can’t get any worse. That's got to count for something.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i mean, what did you expect


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are pretty dreadful at home, so Loki spends as much time as he can at Tony's house.

 

 

They’ve managed to avoid each other for two days. Thor has been leaving the house at the break of dawn, and Loki has been staying at Tony’s pretty much until curfew. It’s as if Thor is a ghost Loki can hear -there, behind the wall- but he can’t see.

And then it’s Saturday. And Thor has been away all day, and Loki has been shut up in his room as much as possible, but now it’s dinner time and mom has called for them to set the table, and they have to get out there or else. And after two days wondering what Thor is thinking or feeling, Loki’s curiosity to see if he can get any clues from his brother’s face has almost caught up with the permanent state of fear and sickliness he’s living under.

He treads carefully, and stops, hesitating, in front of the kitchen door, trying to muster some courage. He would have needed hours, so it doesn’t matter that the door swings open in front of him three seconds later, and there he is, towering above his little brother as if Loki had shrunk and Thor had grown. His eyes are hard as fucking stone. Loki cowers, shuddering inside. And then Thor’s gaze moves away, as if Loki wasn’t even there, and walks on, and somehow that feels even worse.

For the duration of the family meal, the kids stay somber and silent. Loki risks a glance up every now and again, and he never once finds Thor looking his way. He doesn’t talk either, to anyone. His presence, usually sunshiny and expansive, sours the whole atmosphere. Mom and dad are just as quiet and tense. It all piles onto Loki, who loses the little shred of hope he didn’t even know he had that this might work itself out somehow, one day, or perhaps that he’d gain some insight into the train of Thor’s thoughts, and perhaps find what to say, or what to do, to start making it better.

He’s such a fucking idiot, isn’t he? There is no making this better. How the fuck do you go back from this. He knew it, he fucking knew it. He thought about it a hundred times. If Thor should ever find out. If Thor should ever know. He fucking _knew_ it. And he went on and on and on because he never really believed that Thor would actually find out. Because it felt good at the time. Because… Because he needed it. And he wishes he could say he couldn’t imagine how bad it would get if the cat got out of the bag, but he’d be lying. And how the hell does he atone for this. How the hell does he balance it out. It’s _broken_. _They_ are broken, Thor and him, as brothers. It’s over _forever_. He’s never getting him back.

In the bleak, heavy silence that hangs over their heads at the table, he can’t get those thoughts out of his brain. At one excruciating point, Loki’s eyes well up, and no matter how hard he tries, tears start falling. The atmosphere had been pretty fucking dire up till then. Now Loki can feel everybody _cringing_.

Thor drops the cutlery on his plate. The clank startles everyone. His chair screeches on the wooden floor when he abruptly stands up.

“Can I be excused?”

Mom and dad both look at Thor’s half-finished plate. Thor looks in their general direction without meeting anyone’s eyes. Mom is frowning sternly as she opens her mouth to probably command to “sit down and finish your dinner young man!”, but dad puts a hand on her arm and squeezes gently.

“Alright, son,” he says.

Thor dutifully grabs his stuff and takes it to the kitchen, and then he dashes upstairs. He’s awfully noisy about it, but for once, nobody tells him off, nobody protests.

Loki sniffs pitifully.

“Can I be excused too?” he mutters.

“Well…!” gasps mom, indignant.

“Yes, son,” cuts his dad.

And they both turn to him, baffled.

“Odin!” she protests.

“You may go, Loki,” says dad, his hand again on mom’s arm, stroking gently. “You’re excused.”

It’s all so fucking weird and mistifying, it takes Loki a moment to react.

He’s taken his stuff to the kitchen (and put both Thor’s and his plates in the dishwasher -he always “forgets”), and he’s halfway up the stairs, when he hears his parents talking. And like the sneaky little shit he’s always been, he retraces his steps, and listens in.

“Are we going to let them get away with it then?” mom is saying. Her tone is hushed, but full of spikes. She’s really pissed off. “Acting like a pair of brats? Like babies? They’re not even talking! Thor wasn’t even _looking_ at him! And we’re to just, what, watch and nod? If they’re going to act like children, we’re going to have to treat them like children!”

“But they’re not, Frig.” Dad’s voice, calm, collected, infinitely understanding and patient, the insightful and tactful one, for once. It’s the fucking Upside Down. “They’re not children. Thor is eighteen years old. You simply can’t make them kiss and make up. Whatever’s happened, it’s between them. Until either one of them comes to us, we cannot meddle.”

A short pause, then mom charges again, still as agitated as before.

“But what can possibly be so unforgivable, what can Loki have possibly said, that Thor won’t even sit down and talk about it? That he won’t even _look_ at his brother? What?”

“It’s not the point.”

“What do you mean, it’s not the point?”

“That it doesn’t matter what happened. It doesn’t matter how serious or childish it would appear to us. If Thor isn’t ready to get over it yet, then he is not ready. You can’t _make_ him sit down and accept Loki’s apologies and move on. He won’t forgive Loki just because you tell him to. No matter what happened, it must take its course. They have to resolve this in their own time.”

“But… but I don’t understand! What can it possible be…?”

“I don’t know. We don’t know. They won’t tell us. Whatever it is, it’s bad enough that Thor can’t let go yet. We have to respect that. You’re usually the wise one, Frig. Don’t you think I’m right?”

Instead of a reply, Loki hears her sobbing softly. Then a chair creaks and clothes rustle, and he’s pretty sure that his dad has moved to give his wife a hug.

 

Loki wanders off to the stairs with his head in limbo. That was the most fucking shocking exchange he has witnessed between his parents in his fucking life. What the _hell_.

He’s lost in thought, and walking too slowly, and he takes too long up the stairs, and he’s not paying attention, and before he knows it, Thor’s door has slammed and he’s hopping down the stairs. They only avoid bumping into each other because his brother stops sharp two treads above, frozen for a moment.

Loki looks up, blinking as if dazzled. His brother looks right through him, and barges past him, making Loki press against the wall. Thor’s stomping on the wooden stairs is fucking deafening, and so is the front door when he slams it shut.

  


It’s way past curfew when Thor comes back home. He might even be drunk, the way he’s banging and clattering around in his room so late at night. _God_. Everything is so fucking _wrong_.

Loki curls up on his side, and can’t get to sleep. He wonders whether Thor is managing to keep it out of his mind at all, or whether he can’t help tossing and turning it in his thoughts again and again. He wonders what those thoughts are. He wonders if he feels more angry, or sick, or betrayed, or… or heartbroken. He cared for Sorrow. He loved her. Loki pretty much fucking killed her. Thor will never be able to think about her again without thinking of… He won’t be able to mourn her, or miss her. Or miss Loki, for that matter, or mourn him. Because yeah, right now Loki is pretty much dead to him, isn't he? Maybe Thor even wishes he actually was, rather than hovering about, reminding him.

In the dark, in the quietness, Loki does miss his brother, and he misses Storm. And he thinks the shell-shock must be lifting, because there is more than dread and panic and devastation inside him now. He _is_ fucking heartbroken.

He had not had Storm for a few weeks before Thor found out and everything went to shit, and that was bad. He had been dragging his sorry ass at school and crying himself to sleep, craving for something that was right there and he couldn’t reach for, with only their old chats to keep him company. And he would go over them again and again, and they would warm him up, a little. A lot. Melancholy over lost things is a sweet feeling. And how kind and warm and gentle Thor had been, mellow with sadness and softened by that secret pledge to be nicer to his kid brother that he’d only shared with Sorrow. And Loki had thought _that_  was torture, what a moron. But he hadn’t wanted it to go away. It felt good, in its own gloomy, despondent way, pining miserably for his brother.

Now he wishes he could go back on that too. He wishes he could stop loving Thor _that_ way. There’s no good side to this fucking calamity. Nothing gained, nothing learned, no silver linings.

 _This too shall pass,_ so they say. There must be worse things in life. He should know, right? Hardly a life or death situation, this one. It’s probably not the end of the world.

But that doesn’t make Loki’s suffering any less. It’s not the end of the world? Fuck the world. It’s the end of something that mattered immeasurably more. The world always sorts itself out sooner or later. But not this. Not this.

  


***

  


It's a first for Loki, eagerly counting down the minutes to a fucking Monday morning. He fucking _breathes_  a sigh of relief when he hears Thor’s car driving away at the break of dawn. And that's how it's going to be from now on, the new routine.

As for himself, Tony picks him up every day to take him to school, and afterwards they go to his place. Loki spends as much time there as he can. Mom allows it for now, but insists that Loki gets home in time for dinner. Which might be her way of compromising between giving them space, without fully indulging what she sees as intolerably _childish_ _behavior_. Whatever. She’s getting as much grief out of this as she’s putting everybody else through. Because dinner is the worst time of the day for the whole wretched family now, even though Thor only joins them for about fifteen minutes, between setting up the table, eating, and disappearing upstairs, with dad’s blessing, and to mom’s hopeless dismay. Fifteen agonizing fucking minutes that Loki spends hours dreading, and then hours afterwards brooding about, still weighing him down, like a fucking stomachache.

 

Starks’ has become the only place where Loki can stop fretting. They sit down at Tony’s massive desk to do homework or study, or they sit on the couch to play, mostly without a word. Today, they’re in the workshop in the basement. It’s full of tools and gadgets, half-finished devices, prototypes, mechanisms, toys.

“So where the hell are your parents?” asks Loki, after two whole weeks of quiet cohabitation, both keeping to themselves.

“They work in the city,” says Tony. He’s wearing an über-nerdy binocular magnifier helmet thingy to tinker with a ridiculously tiny screwdriver on what looks like a steampunk cricket.

“And why are you here?” asks Loki.

“I’m rusticated.”

Loki lifts an eyebrow. Tony finally looks up, his eyes anime-huge through those magnifying lenses. He removes the helmet and blinks to adjust his vision.

“My first year at college didn’t go so well,” says Tony.

“Sorry, college?”

“Yeah. I skipped a couple of years.”

Figures, thinks Loki.

“And what happened?” he asks.

“I fucked up big time.”

“Fucked up, how?”

“Booze, drugs, sex,” says Tony casually.

Loki takes in that smooth, cute baby face, the silly baggy clothes, and can’t possibly reconcile the image before his eyes with what Tony just told him. Tony smiles as if he could read his mind, and isn’t even pissed off.

“How old are you?” asks Loki.

“Sixteen.”

Loki gapes in shock for a moment.

“Okay. That explains the baby face,” he says, once he’s recovered.

“You just called me baby face,” Stark smiles, delighted.

Loki is still reeling.

“So what… did you do?” he asks.

Stark is still grinning casually. He’s put down the cricket.

“Buckled under pressure, obviously. My dad was a genius, super-precocious too. He graduated at a stupidly young age and got his first PhD before he even turned eighteen. I couldn’t cope with the expectations. I knew I wouldn’t be able to match his academic success, so I tried to match his playboy lifestyle. And got into some trouble. Lots of trouble, actually. So they took me out of college, away from the campus life _and_ city life, sent me back to the old country house, and back to high school. And if I’m a good boy and don’t mess up and _grow the fuck up_ , in my dad’s immortal words, they might let me go back to college when I’m eighteen. It’s been made explicitly and deafeningly clear to me that if I put one single foot away from the straight and narrow, my allowance will be cut off, my tuition won’t be covered, and I’ll be on my own.”

“Harsh,” mutters Loki.

Tony shrugs, like it’s nothing.

“And you’re here all alone?” asks Loki.

“Nah. There’s a professional cleaning service, and they’ve been coming forever, so I know them all, and there’s Jarvis.”

“Who is that?”

“My dad’s man for everything. Friend of the family, but pretty much family by now. Been around forever. He keeps an eye on me, but I’m supposed to look after myself. You know, go shopping, do the laundry, keep my part of the house in order, and generally behave sensibly. And Jarvis supervises and reports that I’m keeping up my side of the bargain.”

“Some bargain,” mumbles Loki.

Tony doesn’t comment.

“What about your mom?” asks Loki.

For the first time, Tony’s reply doesn’t come whip-quick and snappy.

“What about my mom?” he says, after that pause that's made Loki think.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, retreating, since he is clearly trespassing. “My mom is pretty firmly of the helicopter persuasion, so I guess what I…”

“Mine is more hands off,” cuts Tony, snippy again. He picks up the cricket and turns it this way and that, but doesn’t really do anything with it. He’s just keeping his hands busy.

It’s awkward. It’s awkward that this is the first time in all these days they’ve actually traded more than a few words, and that it’s gotten so heavy so quickly. It’s awkward that Loki’s family life seems functional and idyllic compared to Stark’s. It’s awkward that Loki is the one who feels he should be doing the comforting, and has no idea how.

And perhaps because the atmosphere is so thick already, and there’s nothing to spoil, and because Loki has been meaning to ask but hasn’t dared, and because they both could use a change of subject, he just goes for it.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me why I did it?”

Tony looks up at him, and catches his drift immediately.

“Is it any of my business?” he asks.

Loki shrugs.

“Then I’ll wait until you volunteer the information, if and when you feel like sharing,” says Tony, back to playing with the cricket.

“How much do you know?”

“Exactly what I told you.”

“And how much have you figured out?”

Tony looks up again, kindly. “That it’s a lot more complicated than Thor said.”

Loki snorts. Some understatement.

Tony is staring, waiting.

And Loki shrinks, and he picks up a scrap of a half-finished dingus to have something to do with his hands.

“It was going to be a prank, nothing more,” he says. “A mean prank. I was going to…” He gulps, trying to push the choke down. He doesn’t know exactly what it's causing it. Shame, regret, simple desolation. The rest, he whispers. “He was such a fucking asshole. I was going to teach him a lesson. I was just going to catch him going behind Jane’s back with other girls online and…” His throat burns. His face burns. He’s fucking _dying_.

He dares glance up for a second. Tony is looking on, frowning, listening. He still doesn’t have a fucking clue, does he? He hasn’t caught on yet. He cannot possibly imagine.

“He was a bastard to me, but he was nice to _her_ ,” says Loki, and he needs to push through the choke with all his might, and all he manages is a broken whisper.

“Her.”

“The girl I made up.”

“Sorrow.”

Loki nods, eyes on the scrap of metal in his hands.

“God, I’m so pathetic,” he chokes out.

“Why?”

Where does he even start. Oh, but it comes pouring out. It seems that self-loathing is something he doesn’t struggle with; he’s a fucking natural.

“I didn’t have anyone. I didn’t have a life. _She_ did. We never fucking talked anymore, Thor and I. Our longest conversations for fucking ages had been ‘fuck you, fuck you too’. But to this girl, he… He was kind, and sweet, and he cared for her and I…” Loki turns his face away. He doesn’t even know why he feels like he has to come clean like that. He just has to tell _someone_. “He told her things he’d never tell me. I told him things I could never say to his face. It just…”

“You were lonely. It’s not pathetic,” says Stark.

Loki scoffs. He’s in the danger zone now, but he doesn’t have to go any further. It seems Stark’s mind is at ease. Up till here, he understands, he’s sympathetic. He’s taking Loki on his word, and he’s not asking any questions. Loki could leave it here. 

But the answers are pushing up anyway, wanting to come out. Stopping now would be like lying, and he’s gone too far already, and it was hard enough to get here. He’s gonna fucking finish this now, and damn it all to hell.

“I started to get mixed up. Her. Me,” he says. And he looks up, and he holds Tony’s stare, defiant. You can’t own your perversion with your head down. Even his voice comes out stronger. “I started to _feel_ things. I _liked_ it.”

Tony frowns. (Here we go. Is it sinking in yet, Stark?)

“Feel what?”

“I was going to catch him chatting up girls online, wasn’t I? Cheating on Jane. _Sex-chatting,_ ” says Loki, with a fixed, loaded stare. He’s drawn him the picture, and he’s taken him by the hand, and lead Tony to the awful truth, but he doesn’t push him into it.

“You… had sex chats with-with Thor?” asks Tony. His frown is pretty heavy now.

Loki doesn’t have to answer that. He just has to hold Stark’s stare, exactly as he’s been doing. But he does answer just the same, because why the fuck not.

“And I got off on it,” he declares.

Tony is quiet now, digesting. Loki feels weak, all his pluck spent.

“I knew it was fucked up. I know it’s sick. But I couldn’t stop it,” he confesses.

“Yeah, I know how that feels,” mutters Stark.

“You do?”

“I have a record of doing fucked up things too, don't I?”

“Have you ever lured your own brother into having sex online with you, and _liked_ it?” sneers Loki.

It fazes Tony for all of a second.

“I’m an only child,” he replies.

Loki snorts. Tony smiles. Just a tiny one, but it’s there. Loki is the one fazed now.

They’re both quiet for a while.

“Is that all?” says Loki, when he cannot stand it anymore.

“What do you mean?”

“Aren’t you going to… I don’t know.”

"Clutch my pearls? Collapse on my fainting couch?”

Loki looks on, and he’s really freaked out that Tony is simply not _reacting_.

“Like I said, I have a record,” says Tony. “My judgement when it comes to fucked up things is not what you would call balanced, so I'm not going to. Judge, I mean. And your thing is, uh, exotic, sure, but personally I think doing crystal meth and then getting gang banged at fifteen because _pressure,_ well, trumps it.”

Loki is the one stunned and horrified now. Stark shrugs.

“Told ya. To outdo my dad you really have to go the extra mile.”

Loki stares, Tony is the one who can’t meet his eyes now.

“I think I’m in love with him,” says Loki. “I’m in love with my brother.” Not sure if trying to keep an edge here, or if it simply bursts out of him because it had to. Maybe both.

In any case, _that_ does make Tony look up. Those big brown eyes.

“You really mean that?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Jesus,” mutters Tony. “Now _that_ is fucked up. For you.”

Loki scoffs. “Tell me about it.”

“In love? Like, proper in love?”

Loki meditates that. It’s a serious question.

“I have nothing to compare it with,” he says. “I’ve never felt anything like it before. But it seems I can finally understand and relate to all those fucking love songs and poems that never used to make any sense before, so there’s that. I have all the symptoms. I could do you a checklist.”

Again, a little smile touches Tony’s face. _He genuinely fucking likes me_ , thinks Loki, _even after what he’s just found out_.

“Maybe you’re just confusing things,” says Tony. “You and the girl.”

“Maybe,” says Loki softly. “Not confused about one thing though: I wish I could fuck him.”

Tony opens his eyes wide. And Loki smirks, satisfied to see some shock in Stark’s face at last; proud, even.

  


It’s weird when Tony drives him home that night. They don't talk. Sammy Davis Jr. croons passionately at low volume on the radio. _“What kind of a fool am I…”_

“You’re not going to tell anyone about… Are you?” asks Loki at a red light, a couple of streets away from home.

Tony gives him a pretty cute offended duck face that makes Loki almost smile. And then Tony almost smiles in turn. _Why are you so nice to me,_  Loki almost asks. _Because he wants to get in your pants, stupid,_ he replies to himself. 

Tony pulls up at their door. Loki sighs.

“It’s fucking miserable in there,” he mutters. “He’ll never forgive me, ever.”

Tony doesn’t say anything, he just looks at Loki with his sweet brown eyes.

He’s the one good thing in Loki’s entire world right now.

“Thanks,” mumbles Loki.

“It’s okay,” Tony says. He doesn’t ask what for.

And Loki gets this impulse, and he just leans in, and puts a little kiss on Tony’s cheek. Tony grins, miles wide, so bright.

Loki gets out of the car with a massive fluster.

 

All through dinner that evening, with Thor as stubbornly mute and brooding as he always is of late, and mom’s eyes lost in space, hopeless, Loki thinks about Tony, and just for tonight, those horrible fifteen minutes at the table don’t feel like a whole hour.

 

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have to get out of that house,” says Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you ALL for your words of encouragement and support and enthusiasm and the total absence of "Pls update" comments. I'm feeling more productive overall, so I won't keep you waiting as long, maybe? Hopefully?
> 
> And to the coffee people: Y'ALL BLESSED thank you so much. I don't deserve you.
> 
> I need to dedicate this chapter and possibly all the updates for at LEAST the next 3 months to Medeia, who didn't so much buy me a coffee as an entire coffee machine. Bless you.

 

 

“I have to get out of that house,” says Loki. He’s lying on his back on the couch while Tony works at his desk. 

Now Tony stops typing and swivels round to him.

“That bad?” he asks.

“You have no idea,” mutters Loki, looking at the ceiling. “Thor doesn’t talk, at all. My mom… I’ve caught her crying several times. My dad mostly looks baffled. And I…” He rubs his eyes. “She’s tried to get me to talk about it several times. I don’t fucking know what to tell her. I can’t… I can’t tell her. It’s not even about what would happen to me. If I did, I think Thor would fucking kill me, and then himself.” Sigh. “And It’s not getting better. I thought it would somehow, or that it would get… less, I don’t know. I guess there’s no way, while I’m there, reminding Thor about… _Fuck_.”

Tony has been listening patiently and in silence, as he usually does, with that animated expression and bright eyes that let you know he’s actually paying attention. He’s good at that.

“You could stay here,” says Tony. 

Loki turns his head, raising an eyebrow. As if.

“I’m serious. There are, like, seventeen bedrooms. Jarvis knows you, he likes you. My parents won’t mind.”

“But mine might.”

“Ask them.”

Stark looks serious as cancer. Eager, too.

“You really mean it?” asks Loki.

“Absolutely. It would be fun. We get along, don’t we? We could have movie nights, pizza nights…”

“…No-touchy nights…” 

Tony frowns deeply, that ducky, “really unimpressed” pout he does with his mouth. Then he softens.

“Every night is no-touchy night at Chez Stark,” he declares. 

Mostly, he thinks Tony is honest. Mostly. He still thinks being honest doesn’t preclude wanting to get in Loki’s pants, or prevent Tony from getting his hopes up, or negate how Loki feels about stringing him along.

Tony is not happy about Loki’s silence, judging from the following outburst.

“Loki, goddammit, you’ve made pretty clear that you’re emotionally unavailable and sexually... ambivalent, and I’m not, repeat, I’m _not_ offering this to get you to… Hell, get a fucking lock for the door, if you’re worried!”

Aw, Tony. Got it all backwards. Some concept he has of Loki too.

“Don’t be silly. I’m not worried,” he says. “Not about me.”

“About who, then, me? I’m not under any delusions. I just like to have you around, okay? You’re good company. I think you must have noticed by now it gets a little lonely around here.” And this is something they don’t talk about, but not because there’s _nothing_ to talk about. “Besides, I’ll get to sleep forty more minutes in the morning. Yay. Listen, Loki, forget everything else. Just… would you like to?”

It’s still weird to Loki that he has gained so much loyalty and goodwill without trying, in exchange for nothing. He thinks Tony would understand too, how he feels. That it sits wrong with him accepting something when he hasn’t earned it.

In any case, “I don’t think my parents will go for it,” he says.

“But would you like to?” 

Loki smiles. Can’t help it. Tony looks so eager.

“I think I might, yeah,” Loki says.

“Then ask them. Tell them to call my parents. And Jarvis. They’ll go for it. I mean, excuse me, but you look like a fucking wreck. You must have lost five pounds since this whole thing started. Whatever you’re doing in that house, it’s not helping anyone. Just… give yourself a holiday from it all. You, and Thor, and your parents. Come on. Why not?”

 

 

***

 

 

“Are you… are you serious?” mom asks.

Loki gulps and nods. He wasn’t sure when to bring it up, but he thought his dad should be there. So, instead of burying himself in his room after dinner like he’s been doing for the past month, tonight he stayed. 

And now mom is tearing up, and dad is looking at her, frowning, concerned.

“Why can’t you… sit down and talk, like grown ups?” she mutters, with difficulty.

“Frig…” sighs Odin.

(This is exhausting.)

“You-you said you didn’t _mean_ to say whatever the heck it is that you said. You said you didn’t _mean_ it. Why can’t Thor just…?” She’s as lost for words as she was the first day. “What was it, Loki? If you tell me, maybe we can…”

“Frig.”

“What!” she snaps at dad. “He wants to move out of this house because of it, and I’m not even allowed to know what is it?” 

Loki rubs his forehead, the headache he’s been nursing all afternoon as he was gearing himself up to asking hammering his temples. 

“Loki,” says dad softly. “Do you want to tell us what happened?”

His tone and his expression tell Loki that he does not for one moment expect his son to say yes and spill the beans. Bless you, dad.

“I…can’t,” Loki mutters. “It’s not just… I can’t. If Thor wants to tell you…” Deep breaths. He’s just pictured the scene. His parents’ reaction. Fuck. Deep breath. “If Thor wants to tell you, then fine. But I can’t. I can’t decide for him. It’s… it also affects him.”

Mom looks distraught and frustrated, but his dad nods slowly.

“And you think staying at your friend’s is the best solution right now?” asks dad, reasonable and calm.

“Yes,” says Loki fervently. “Yes. I think I’m… making things worse for everyone here. I think…”

“You’re _not_ ,” cuts mom sternly. “This is _your_ house, darling, we…”

“Frig. Let him finish.”

Dad’s one eye, watery blue―it’s been a long time since Loki has felt it on himself without shrinking a little, let alone lean on it for support. He collects his thoughts, arming himself to face his mom.

“I think Thor won’t be able to… move on if he sees me every day. And it’s not fair that he…”

“How long,” she cuts. “How long would you be gone.”

He hasn’t even thought about that.

“N-not sure. Until he goes to college?” 

Mom gasps in dismay.

“That’s… months away!” she chokes out.

“Stark’s place is only on the other side of town,” says Loki. “You could visit. I could visit.”

“What, on the weekend, when your brother is out until stupid hours doing god knows what?” she snarks.

There is a long, complicated silence. Dad puts an end to it, serenely.

“We’ll have to speak to Stark’s parents, and also this… Mr. Jarvis, you said it was?”

“Odin!” she protests.

“This is not a yes,” says dad. “We’re just considering the idea. Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

Loki stares at the old man, awash in gratitude and relief. He shakes his head.

“Then up you go. Your mother and I have to discuss this.”

Loki nods. He gets up, picks up his things, and before he goes to the kitchen, he kisses his mom _and_ his dad.

“Look at you, smiling,” says dad, grabbing his arm fondly. “You look so much like your mother sometimes.” A strong, virile pat, and he lets Loki go.

 

 

***

 

 

Saturday. Moving out day. Mom comes into the room while Loki is piling up clothes on the bed. She’s carrying the big suitcase, the one they used when they took that long holiday to Hawaii a couple of years ago for their anniversary. She looks wretched.

“Thank you,” mutters Loki. 

She has a look at the mess on Loki’s bed. She stands by his side, starts picking up the piles of t-shirts and jeans to fold them up well and put them neatly in the big case.

“Thank you,” he says again.

They carry on in silence.

When the big suitcase is full of clothes and books, they sit on it together to close it. 

The room looks different already. He’s not taking much, but it’s all the stuff that matters.

They sit on the bed in silence. Loki holds her hand.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

“I don’t understand,” she says. 

Loki feels the choke, the burn.

“You _will_ come back,” she declares. Not a question, but Loki senses the fretting and doubt that creep beneath it.

He nods. “Of course I will.” Who cares if it’s true or not.

“And you _will_ sort this out with Thor before he goes to college.”

Loki looks down to their hands, firmly tangled together.

“I will try.” (No, he will not.)

She sniffs.

“I don’t understand.”

 

 

***

 

 

“Tony’s here!” calls dad from downstairs. 

“I need a minute!”

 

One moment later, Tony is at his door with a box in his hands.

“What are you doing here?” asks Loki. "I said I'd be a minute."

“I thought you might need help. And I… I need to talk to your brother.”

Loki gives him a look of solidarity. Tony takes a deep breath, blows it out.

"Okay, here I go."

He gets out there and knocks on Thor’s door.  

“Odinson. It’s me, Tony.”

A moment, some steps behind the wall. Loki quickly hides in his room like a doofus and listens. Thor’s door opening. Then a gruff, deep, “What.” And he thinks he hears Tony clearing his throat too.

“Hey, man.” Harrumph. Tony’s nervous. “Here’s your half.”

“My half of what.”

“The-the project. I did half, and all the welding too, sorry you didn’t get to do any of… Anyway.”

“The project,” says Thor, toneless.

“Yeah. Everything’s in the box. The plans, the essay, and, oh, I put some tools in there, in case you…”

“I don’t want your fucking tools,” cuts Thor.

“Then sell them on fucking e-bay, I don’t care.”

Silence. Loki’s leg wants to bounce like crazy. 

“What the hell are you up to with my brother.” 

Loki’s stomach drops.

“What the hell am I…?” repeats Tony, indignant. “We play Skyrim. We finished _Taboo_ , we’re thinking about what to watch next. We read. Well, he reads. He’s half-way through my grandmother’s library already. We talked about making cookies. We…”

“Stark,” cuts the gruff voice. And then, slowly, bitingly, “What the fuck are you up to with my brother.”

Silence. Loki has both hands over his mouth, about to vibrate out of his skin. 

“It’s none of your fucking business, Odinson,” says Tony, seething, plucky. “But he’s kind of lonely and miserable, and I’m kind of lonely and not so happy myself, and we get along well, and I thought I could help him, I don’t know. Yes, I _do_ like him. But if you’re implying that I mean to… to charge him _rent_ , or something, if you’re suggesting I’d… fall on him when he’s down like a, a, a fucking vulture… I don’t know what to say, man. I thought you had a better concept of me than that. This family, I swear. Who hurt y’all?”

Silence. God fucking knows what’s going on there, a staring contest or a silent strangulation.

“Anyway, here’s the project,” says Tony, which at least proves he’s breathing. “Finish it, or don’t finish it. Present it to the fair, or take it to the scrapyard. Do whatever the hell you want with it. No need to credit me. I’ll see you around.”

 

Tony returns several shades of white paler than when he knocked on Thor’s door. 

“He’s scary,” Tony whispers, with a forced smile. But he’s holding himself straighter too. That was a rite of passage.

Loki smiles. On an impulse, he grabs his hand, gives it a little supportive squeeze. It’s only a moment, but it leaves Tony beaming.

 

 

***

 

 

The suitcase and two small boxes are in the trunk. It’s all set. Mom can’t stop hugging him.

“I’ll see you on Saturday,” Loki keeps repeating.

She pushes him away for a moment, and Loki can’t look at her face longer than a second. Fucking hell, mom. Talk about making things harder for everybody. So that's who he gets it from.

Dad comes to the rescue, as he has for the last few weeks.

“Son,” he says, and pries him away from her arms. He gives him a one-arm hug. A little stronger than usual, a little longer. Loki was doing well so far, but now his eyes get cloudy. “We’ll see you soon,” says dad, with a solid back pat that makes Loki wince. “Take care, both of you. Be sensible.”

“Yes, sir,” says Tony, smiling sweetly. “Do not hesitate to call or visit, anytime. And Jarvis is always available on that number.”

Dad nods, with one arm around his wife, who’s staring into space, haunted and desolate, as if she was looking at a place where her house use to stand before a twister took it away or a fire burnt it to the ground. This too is on me, Loki thinks. A few days ago, he would have cried, but he’s either becoming desensitized or he’s run out of tears. Maybe it’s the same thing.

He is about to get in the car, but he yields to temptation and looks up one last time. He can’t say for sure, because the sun is hitting it right on, but he thinks there’s a shadow at Thor’s window. He looks and waits. Maybe he even hopes. A movement. A gesture. 

There’s nothing. Maybe he’s not even there after all. Maybe it’s better if he isn’t.

Loki climbs in the car, next to a sunshiny Tony Stark who hasn’t stopped smiling this entire week. They drive away. Today on the radio, it’s Mr. Chet Baker. Tony natters away as he drives.

“I thought you could take the room next to mine. But you can choose whichever you like,” he’s saying.

Loki hums. Means yes.

“I could teach you to drive on the grounds. Would you like that?”

Loki hums.

They drive in silence for a while. He’s totally putting a damper on Tony’s mood, isn’t he?

“Let’s have pancakes for dinner tonight,” Loki mutters.

“Goodness me!” says Stark, feigning shock. “We haven’t even gotten there yet, and already you’re trying to lead me down a path of rebellion and self-indulgence!” he jokes. “What’s next, ice cream for breakfast?”

Loki forces a smile. He feels Tony’s eyes on him whenever the road can spare them.

“Hey, we’ll be alright, yeah?” says Tony. 

Loki hums. He even nods. He looks out the window.

 

 

***

 

 

“I thought you’d like the views from this room, and the balcony. But you can change if you like. You can have any of them,” says Tony, excited, repeating himself.

“This is fine,” says Loki. Which is a huge injustice to the place, huge, full of windows and light, nice antique furniture, and yeah, lovely views. Is that a fucking lake over there? Please don’t tell me that’s a fucking swan...

“That’s your bathroom,” says Tony, opening a fucking _secret door_  concealed in the wooden panelling. "All to yourself. Not huge, but with all the mod cons.”

“Neat.”

“The master bedroom at the end of the hall has a jacuzzi. You’re welcome to use it whenever you feel like it. And the hot tub outside. And the indoors swimming pool in the second ballroom. I mean, it used to be a second ballroom, but mom put a swimming pool there. It's heated and all. It's really nice.”

Loki can't deny he's feeling kind of overwhelmed now. Is this really his new home for the next few months? And he'll be expected to go back to a normal place after that? Hell, maybe he should listen to Darcy and marry Stark now, before talk of prenups come up.

“Thanks,” is all he can say right now.

“Don't mention it." Awkward little pause. "Will you be alright here? Do you like it?”

“Yeah. It’s… beautiful. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Um, more than fine.”

“Okay," beams Tony. "Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

Loki looks around half-heartedly. His mind, in spite of it all, is miles away.

“Why don’t I, uh, leave you to it,” says Tony. “You sort yourself out, take possession, become acquainted, all that. I’ll be in mine. Or downstairs. You can stay up here. I mean, you don’t have to join me for dinner or anything. We can stay out of each other’s way. No problem. Whatever you want.” So eager, so accommodating, so sweet.

“I’m sorry,” says Loki softly.

“What for?”

“I’m sorry I don’t look… I mean, I’m sure I’ll be fine here. I’m happy I’m out of that place. And I’m grateful. I just… I have a lot going on. Sorry I can’t be more… Sorry.”

“That’s okay. It’s alright. Honest. Yeah?”

Loki nods.

“I might still make pancakes for dinner. With ice cream. And syrup. If you’re up for that.”

Loki half-smiles.

“I might be.”

“Cool. Okay. See you later, maybe?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

 

 

***

 

 

It takes Loki some time to find his feet. It’s not that he doesn’t like the place. He loves the place. All that breathing room, after weeks of cabin fever. And the grounds? Acres and acres of prairie and woodland, the lake, a navigable creek that (so Stark says) leads to the sea, reeds and dragonflies, silence. It’s fucking wonderful. Yeah, he likes it here. It doesn’t feel real. It seems impossible that it stands less than half an hour away from their perfectly ordinary suburban dream home. It's like Edward Scissorhands's gothic mansion at the end of that cul-de-sac lined with identical pink houses, their neat tiny front lawns. He wishes he could have come here as a child. They would have had so much fun.

He was right too, distance is what everyone needed. Even mom sounds lighter on the phone. Loki has it on good authority that she is constantly in touch with Jarvis, but she talks to Loki on the phone every day just the same. Not much to say, but he must sound happier, and maybe that’s all she needs to hear.

Dad usually insists on talking on the phone after that.

“Everything alright, son?”

Loki says yeah, tells him a little nothing or two, about the workshop, about the lands, and then he asks about Thor.

“He’s well,” dad usually says. 

So Loki assumes there aren’t any big changes. But he’s done everything he could do.

With Stark, things are pretty much as they had been before Loki moved in, without the extra commuting. Tony drives them to school and back. He also sticks around between classes, and they often have lunch together, both with their noses stuck on their respective phones. And then they usually spend a good chunk of the afternoon together too, playing, studying (finals are almost here), watching some show. Aunt Consuelo (sort of the housekeeper) is teaching them how to cook. They also go shopping, do their laundry, keep their rooms tidy. It’s a good distraction. Loki feels independent, grown up, far removed from the petty little shit who got this clusterfuck rolling. 

For most of the following weeks, Loki only catches quick glimpses of Thor at school, and nothing more. But hell, seeing him is still electrifying. Even after all that’s gone down, nothing has changed inside. His brother is… pure fucking light made flesh, and Loki’s entire body is drawn to him as if he was caught in Thor’s orbit. 

He fucking misses him so much. He misses Storm and Sorrow, but he misses Thor just as much, if not more. He wonders if that’s it, if this is how the story ends between them, if those horrible words and those dreadful fucking family dinners are really the last he’s ever gonna get from his brother. 

They’ll have to sit down together one day, sooner or later. There will be a family holiday, or a wedding, or a funeral, and they will have to be civil to one another. And perhaps one day, many years from now, Thor will finally be over it, and they will sit down, and they will talk, and Loki will be forgiven. That may be so. But to Loki that’s no consolation, and it will never be. There's a bratty stupid kid inside who remembers how it was for those few weeks they had, when his brother would say “I love you”, and Loki would get to say “I love you too”, when they would write kisses and hugs, and flirt, and laugh, and make love to each other in words, and how fucking good and perfect it was, in spite of that fucking wall between them, and the mess in Loki’s head, and the guilt; and the bratty stupid kid won't hear reason; he just stomps his foot down and screams “I want Thor!” He doesn’t understand about “impossible”. He doesn’t understand “it’s over.” And the stupid kid inside has knives too, and whenever Loki tries to reason with him, he gets stabbed right in the gut. Because Loki doesn't want it to be over. _He wants Thor._ And he never, ever stops bleeding.

 

 

***

 

 

“We could both head to the city for the summer, what say you?” asks Tony one evening. They’re making omelettes.

Loki heard today that Thor got a job giving swimming lessons to kids at the local pool. He’s going to graduate with high enough grades (they’ve taken a dip these last few months, but on average they still hold.) He won’t be able to take his pick among the Ivy Leagues as he had hoped for, but it’s fine. They’ll have him at CalTech, which is what he wanted, and he’s happy, so dad says.

“And do what?” asks Loki.

“Anything! Museums, you look like a guy who digs museums. Well, take your pick. And plays, as many as you can watch. On weekends we can go upstate, to the beach. We have a small yacht, so we could, I don’t know, try and see some dolphins or whales or whatever.”

“Sounds pretty cool.”

“That’s because it is! But don’t sound so excited.”

Loki is thinking about the end of August, when Thor will fuck off to college and he’ll never see him ever again. That thought occupies like seventy-five percent of his brainspace these days, and it's as heavy as the weight of the fucking skies on his shoulders.

“I’ll miss you, you know? When you go back home,” says Tony.

Loki looks up, and smiles vaguely.

“Me too.”

“So let’s make the most of this, yeah?”

Museums, plays, yachts, whales. Sounds unfair that Loki gets a dream holiday for fucking up his brother's last year at home, but Tony is leaving for the city anyway, and Loki... can't go home yet. He owes Thor that at least. 

“Yeah. Okay," he sighs. "I’ll ask mom.”

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor's side of things.
> 
> It's not going to be pretty. Be warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe there was some expectation about this?

 

Mom and Loki just left. She made them apologize to each other like a couple of kids. Thor doesn’t think about it. He sticks his earbuds in, he blasts the loudest shit he’s got, he plays a war game—he doesn’t think about it.

Sorrow never existed. For some reason, Thor simply can’t fucking understand that Loki created her, made Thor fall in love with her, made Thor do un-fucking-speakable things with her, and then made her break up with him. Why.  _ Why. _

He can't fucking bear it. So he doesn’t think about it.

He goes to bed at stupid hours, exhausted, with a splitting headache, and he can’t get to sleep. He tosses and turns, or lies on his back with his eyes open, staring at the dark. He doesn’t think about it.

He gets up early in the morning the next day. He doesn’t think about it. He drives, he blares death metal. He doesn’t think about it. He gets to the stadium and runs. He runs and runs and runs. He doesn’t think about it. He stops when he cannot breathe, fire in his lungs, stabs to his side. He pants, coughs, spits. 

He doesn’t think about it. 

At school, he doesn’t think about it. He can’t fucking concentrate, can’t barely hear a word that’s said. He doesn’t think about it. In the hallways, he keeps his eyes front and blind. He doesn’t want to meet anyone’s stare. If he crosses paths with Loki, he doesn’t want to know. 

After school, there’s training. It’s brutal. His legs are still sore from the run earlier today, but Thor pushes himself harder than ever. He lunges at other players. The coach takes him aside, asks him if there’s a problem.

“No. Why?”

He doesn’t think about it. 

He doesn’t go home straight away. He goes to the gym. He really fucking goes for it. He only stops when his fucking arms are shaking. He stays forever in the shower. He doesn’t think about it.

Loki is not there for dinner that night. The atmosphere is like a fucking wake. When he’s cleaning up, he hears dad ask, “What the hell is going on here tonight?” 

Thor doesn’t think about it. 

He shuts himself up in his room, blasts metal, kills nazis. He never hears his brother get home. He stays awake staring into the dark. He doesn’t think about it.

He gets up at dawn to go running. He pushes it and pushes it and pushes it and it tastes like blood in his mouth and his breathing goes weezy and his legs refuse to keep going and he stops, panting, spits because he can’t swallow, and he wants something to punch, something to attack, something he can grab in his hands and tear in half, and to roar, roar until his voice gives out, until he makes himself throw up.

He doesn’t think about it.

 

One day follows another. For Thor, they’re like the landscape from a moving train, just a blur.

He and Loki only meet at dinner time, and even that’s too much. Thor stares straight ahead, eyes unfocused, stubbornly not seeing Loki, not acknowledging that he’s there. It’s unbearable. Thor feels a bunch of things about it all, and they all crowd right under his skin and behind his eyes and, goddammit, in his mouth, but he clenches his fists and refuses to see and he doesn’t think about it.

Mom keeps throwing him glares. She’s come to talk to him like five times already.  _ What did Loki say that was so unforgivable. He said he didn’t mean it. He apologized. Must you both be so childish. Why can’t either of you tell me about it. Why won’t you speak. Can’t you just try. He’s your little brother. He said he was sorry.  _

Thor looks right through her, like she isn’t even there, and doesn’t think about it. 

 

Saturday. He drives to The Shack. He’s heard of it, but he’s never been. It’s a shithole with a colorful array of patrons, including rough-looking bikers and dodgy dealers; but he’s been reliably informed that, as long as you look the part, nobody looks too close at your ID. 

Thor gets one beer after another. 

“Buy me a drink?” purrs a voice beside him. 

Thor turns. She’s dyed blonde, heavy makeup, older. Hot. A corset-type top pushes her tits up, a soft, broad plateau better than any shoulder to cry on. 

She sucks him with the efficiency of a porn actress in the back of his pick up. Then she rides him hard and fast, with Thor intent on filling his whole fucking mouth with her soft boobs. It’s dirty and cheap and good. 

After, Thor drives in a stupor, until he gets to a curve. He can’t see the road. He pulls up behind a gas station and finally, blessedly, he sleeps. 

The sun wakes him up. He has the mother of all hangovers. He drives with a mallet smashing his temples, the sun cutting into his eyes.

 

When he gets home, dad is there, in the kitchen, reading on his tablet with a cup of coffee next to him. He’s wearing day clothes. Did he even go to bed? 

They stare at each other. Thor is expecting a hail of fire and brimstone, like the other time he pulled an all-nighter and didn’t call. He’ll take it lying down; if he’s grounded for six months, he won’t even argue. He just wants it over and done with.

“Need an aspirin?” asks his father. 

And after Thor has emptied his glass of water, his father pours him another. 

“Drink up,” he insists. And when Thor’s done, “Go to bed, son,” he says. 

Thor thinks he should say something. His dad has got mom off Thor’s back several times now. He is grateful.

He’s just so fucking tired and sore and hungover, and he feels sweaty and dirty and everything’s fucking wrong, everything, and he misses Sorrow. He misses her. And here it goes, that… that blackness, that chasm that opens under his feet whenever he gets anywhere near it. His fucking heart is broken. And he wants it to stop hurting. And he doesn’t know what to do. There’s nothing he can do about it.

So he shuffles upstairs and takes off his clothes, shedding that smell of booze and sweat and her cigarettes, and collapses on his bed, begging for sleep to come. But his mind is already going in a thousand directions, and he really has to grab it tight and steer it clear of dangerous places. 

He doesn’t get another wink of sleep, and he doesn’t, he  _ doesn’t _ fucking think about it.

  
  


Several weeks follow of nightmarish dinners and punishing sleeplessness and visiting the Shack on Saturdays. Different women. Thor is getting a reputation there. One of the bikers is going to break his face one of these days. It’s probably just the beer, nothing to do with the women, but it’s Thor’s little ritual, the only time in the whole week he really sleeps. Sleeping as in a minimum number of solid hours of unconsciousness, instead of tossing and turning and coming in and out of it and weird disturbing dreams that make him sickly and afraid. 

Dad tries to keep mom off his back, but during dinner time he cannot shield Thor from her glare. Doesn’t matter how hard Thor tries to ignore it. She’s always gotten through to him. And he’s not half as stubborn and impervious as he was when he was a kid. He doesn’t struggle to imagine what she’s thinking or feeling.  _ My poor Loki, _ is what she’s feeling.  _ You monster _ , is what she’s thinking. 

Thor grits his teeth and his nails dig deep into the palms of his hands and he feels the fireball of messed up emotions building up inside, trying to burst out of him as one inarticulate roar. 

“Can I be excused?” is what he says instead.

She doesn’t even argue anymore, or answer. Dad gives permission.

She  _ despises _ him. Everyday builds up her disappointment in him. He doesn’t even try, does he?  _ You monster. _

Maybe he is. Maybe.

He doesn’t think about it.

  
  


***

  
  


Loki just left. Thor just heard Stark’s car driving away.

 

A moment later, his mom is in his room.  _ Shit. _

“Are you happy now?” Her voice breaks down. 

Thor turns to look at her; for the first time in weeks, he holds her gaze.  _ Do I look happy to you? _

He turns his face away. Looks front, empties his eyes of expression.

She walks away.

Thor doesn’t think about it.

  
  


Dinners were tough before, but they’re purgatory now. Mom doesn’t talk to him at all anymore. She does glare at him from time to time. Dad mostly just sighs. Should Thor leave as well? Where would he go?

 

He keeps doing his runs, training like he’s getting ready for imminent total war, plodding through his classes with half his brain fried due to exhaustion and lack of sleep and the things he doesn’t think about, and then breaking his back in the gym, and getting smashed and laid on Saturdays, and finding his dad waiting up for him no matter what time it is.

One Sunday, though, about noon, when Thor gets up, his father makes him sit down with him at the breakfast table. Thor has a cup of coffee, some painkillers, and gets offered bacon and eggs, which he turns down with a grimace. 

“I hear you pulled out of the science fair,” his father says.

Thor gulps some coffee with his pills, nods.

There is a silence.

“How is the studying going?”

Thor is tempted to give him a shit-eating smirk. 

“Alright,” he says.

Yeah, fucking  _ great. _ He’s at a stage when he’s seeing double and nodding off in class. He sits down with his books, his eyes skim over the words, he turns the pages, and everything slips immediately away, nothing sticks. He’s fucking up some basic calculus. He’s going to flunk his finals big time.

“This can’t go on forever, son,” says his father, never one for beating around the bush.

Thor rubs the pinch of skin between his eyes. He’d seen this coming.

His father, of course, is only just getting started. And here we go.

“Now, I know you to be a good, decent young man, so i’m going to assume you’re not doing this as a hobby. I don’t know how to help you, and I’m not going to push you, but you know as well as I that this cannot go on. You’re going to start thinking what you need to get this on the way to being sorted, and sooner rather than later. Because you are a kind, decent young man indeed, because he is your brother, and because I’m not going to stand by and watch you develop a drinking problem, or blow your scholarship to hell because of a DUI conviction, or get killed in a bloody car crash. Think about what you need, how we can help, anything that can get this thing unjammed.” 

Thor has kept his eyes on his coffee for the duration. As far as dressing downs go, this is one of the mildest he’s ever received from the old man. He really must be getting old now. 

“Have you got anything to say?” It’s almost sounds as if he  _ is _ trying to be stern, but his heart isn’t in it.

Thor shakes his head slowly.

“You’re going to have to  _ try _ , son,” insists his father. “I won’t be able to keep your mother off your back for much longer. And what’s more, she’s almost got me convinced to cart you off to a therapist or a counselor or whatever. You have been warned. Now, please, eat something, and take a shower.”

 

***

 

Thor stops going out on Saturdays. He hopes this keeps his parents off his case for a while longer. A show of his willingness to do better, so to speak. He talked to his father about his sleeping problems. They get him some melatonin drops and some fucking  _ herbal tea. _ Fair enough. Thor takes it. Maybe it even works, who knows. Or maybe he’s getting over it all, a little. He doesn’t think about it  _ less _ than before. He’s just fucking exhausted.

He rejoins his friends for studying. He has been avoiding spending time with anyone, using his workload as an excuse. Now he sits down with Sif and the boys, and they all pull their heads together. 

Not Stark. Stark is permanently glued to Loki these days. He sees them sometimes at lunch, in the remotest corner of the room, on their phones. 

Thor insistently, stubbornly, doesn’t think about it. The very ugly  _ it _ that bubbles up inside when he sees them together like that, tooth and nail, and which Thor refuses to analyse or take apart or examine too closely. 

He looks away, beyond, he looks through, and he doesn’t fucking think about any of it. 

He puts his head down and reviews several paragraphs, and tries again, and begs, prays, please let some of this _ stick. _

  
  


_ *** _

  
  


He passed his tests. It’s a fucking miracle. He’s going to college. 

He gets a job at the pool like he did last year. He’s taking every hour they will give him. A bit of money for college, and keeping as busy as he can.

A few days after the school year is officially over, he hears mom on the phone. Loki is going with Stark to the city; he’ll be spending the summer there. He’ll drop by to pick up a few things on Friday at 5 p.m. 

“I’ll be a bit late,” says mom on the phone. “Don’t leave before I get there, you hear?” Her voice is warm, light, full of love for her poor misunderstood little baby. Thor tastes bile. She’s still giving him those glares.  _ You monster. _

 

Friday, 5 p.m. She’ll be a bit late. 

It’s been like two months now. 

It seems Loki is staying true to his promise to keep out of the house until Thor goes to college. 

Thor is not fucking leaving without some fucking answers. 

  
  


***

  
  


Loki has just stuffed a stack of t-shirts and tanks into his gym bag (it should be hot in the city, so Tony says), and he’s reaching under the bed for the shoe box where the sandals he practically never wears should be, when he hears his door creak open. He turns, expecting mom.

It’s Thor. With a deep, dark frown on his face, arms crossed over his chest, looming large, eyes hard and fixed on him. Loki hasn’t seen him up close for weeks now. He’s terrifying. He takes a step inside and closes the door behind him. Still on his knees on the floor, Loki flinches.

Thor stands there, enormous, filling up the room.

“I just want to know why,” he says, in a low, sharp grumble. “Why did you do it.  _ Why _ .”

Loki blanks out, heart hammering in his chest. 

He gets up slowly, as if trying not to startle the beast. 

“It-it was a prank,” he mutters.

“I got that,” spits Thor.

“I-I was going to teach you a l-lesson,” Loki stutters. 

“What lesson.”

Loki breathes deep. It’s a chance to explain himself. Possibly the only one he’ll get.

“You… were being so mean. You treated me like dirt. And I…” 

“ _ Yes _ ,” cuts Thor, hissing. “I get it. You wanted to get back at me. But what the fuck were you up to. What was the fucking  _ plan _ .”

Loki… is completely fucking lost, and all the more scared for it. 

“I-I was going to prove to Jane that you were cheating on her. Create this bogus profile and…”

“And then  _ what _ ?” barks Thor, another step forward, fists clenching by his sides. 

Loki doesn’t know what the right answer is. He doesn’t get what Thor is asking.

“I w-would take a screenshot and…”

In a furious whirl, Thor turns and punches the door. It cracks. His knuckles are bright white for a moment, then a trickle of red. Loki cowers, back against the wall. When Thor turns, slowly, menacingly, he looks as wild as his kid brother has ever seen him.

“It was a prank,” repeats Thor in a slow, dangerous mutter. “You were going to teach me a lesson. You created a bogus profile to set a trap for me. You were going to chat me up, take a screenshot, and show it to Jane. And then  _ what _ .”

“Wh-what do you mean, what?” asks Loki, with what little voice he’s got.

“I mean, why did you drag it out for three fucking months?!” Thor roars, another step closer. “What was the fucking need? What?”

Loki trembling like a leaf, and it seems to make Thor wilder. 

“You made me care for her!” Thor roars. “ _ Why?  _ Why did you keep it going so long, huh? Did you get some sort of sick pleasure knowing how much I fucking suffered? And what about the rest, playing the sweet caring brother to my face, while you were, what, laughing the moment I turned my back?! Did you enjoy it, messing up with my brain like that? Did you think that the longer it went for, the more fucked up it would be for me, all the more humiliating and shameful and… and fucking painful!” 

He’s right in Loki’s face now, looming above him, screaming. Thor grabs the collar of Loki’s t-shirt, Loki makes himself small. 

“Was it  _ fun  _ for you? To see me like that, pining after her like an idiot?”

It’s dawning on Loki now, inch by terrible inch.

“Was Stark in on it too?” Thor shakes him by the collar. “Do you still laugh at me now, the two of you? How you made me dance all that time?”

Loki shakes his head weakly. Thor’s got it all so fucking backwards, he doesn’t know where to begin.

“What the fuck were you waiting for!” roars Thor, both hands on Loki’s shirt now. “What! What else did you fucking want from me! How much longer were you going to keep it going!”

Loki gulps; his throat is bone dry, and he’s in fucking pieces. 

“What-what did I ever do to you,” Thor says now, in a hiss, “that you hate me so  _ much. _ Why do you hate me like this.”

His brother has him trapped against the wall and his collar is digging into his skin and Thor’s face is contorted with anger, but somehow there’s nothing really threatening about him now. His eyes. They’re fucking desolate. 

Loki feels strangely calm now, serene, collected. He’s not scared anymore. In a way, it’s like facing a firing squad when you believe in your cause. You look straight into the barrels of the guns and keep your head high. 

“Thor, the plan went to hell less than two weeks in,” he says softly.

Thor looks at him straight in the eye

“What the fuck does that mean,” he grumbles.

He doesn’t fucking have a clue. He’s got it all backwards. Loki wonders for a moment, would it better if it stayed like that?

“What the fuck does that mean?!” shouts his brother, shaking him by the neck again.

Loki is still calm. His brother can’t hurt him. He might hit him, but he won’t hurt him.

“You were so nice to her, to Sorrow,” says Loki, whispering. “I liked Storm. It was good, talking to him. I liked it.”

Thor scrunches his face in confusion, with the exact same expression as when he was little.

“I needed them,” confesses Loki, “Storm and Sorrow. They were all I had.”

Thor has let go of Loki’s t-shirt, dropped his hands, and is stepping away, confusion battling with rising realization in his eyes.

“Sorrow never lied to you,” continues Loki. “What she told you. What she felt for you.”

Horror and shock are now breaking through on Thor’s face. Loki carries on.

“It wasn’t a prank, Thor. It wasn’t a plan. It was never supposed to happen like that. I tried to stop it. I should have stopped it. I should not have let it go that far. But I wasn’t stringing you along. It was real. It was all real.”

Thor’s eyes are wide but he still hasn’t understood the full magnitude of what Loki is trying to tell him. His eyes are lost in space. Loki wonders if he’s running through the reel of their strange, sad little story in his mind, as Loki himself is doing. He lets it sink in, all of it. Loki thinks he fucking sees it when the full meaning of what Loki has just confessed finally hits. Thor looks up at him, his eyes full of the terrible, unthinkable truth.

And this is the one moment Loki will ever have. And it doesn’t matter anymore. 

“It was all real,” he says, just a little voice. And he gathers what little strength and courage he has left and whispers, “I am Sorrow. I always was.” Deep breath. “I love you, Thor.”

Thor has gone paper white, and Loki is no sure if he’s going to be sick, or pass out, or both.

The moment seems to stretch on forever. 

“Thor, I…”

“Shut  _ up _ ,” his brother snaps.

Loki doesn’t flinch. Thor is still reeling. Now his eyes are wide and blown. He’s staring at Loki like the vicious sick freak he definitely knows him to be now. 

“Shut up,” he whispers. “Shut your mouth. I… I don’t want to hear another word. I don’t want to…” For another long moment, it’s like he’s forgotten where he is. When he comes back, his voice is still a whisper, but so hard. “I’m not gonna tell mom and dad. I probably should. But I don’t… I don’t want to think about it. Ever again. I don’t want to hear of it. Understand? We’ll never fucking talk about this again. We’re going to forget about it. It never happened. This whole fucking conversation too, never happened. Never,  _ ever _ mention it to me again.  _ Ever. _ Is that clear.”

Loki is surprised to find himself so calm. He doesn’t even feel like crying. 

“Whatever you say,” he whispers.

Thor can’t fucking look at him as he walks backwards to the door. His stare is still miles long. Is he still spinning it around in his head, all the things they said and did, the sweet words, the sex, the photos? Is it all suddenly a hundred times worse? He walks funny, as if he’s covered in slime or something disgusting and he can’t even bear the touch of his own skin.

And Loki doesn’t make a move, doesn’t really see either. He hears him plod down the stairs, and then hears the pick up driving away. 

He sits on the bed and stares into space. He doesn’t feel anything he can put a name to. 

It’s dead. It’s finally dead. What they had. As brothers, as Storm and Sorrow, as kids who grew up together and played together and were good friends once. 

Thor thought him capable of more hatred than Loki could have ever imagined. But was it because the alternative was too horrible to contemplate? Was that thought, that it has all been a prank after all, protecting Thor from something even worse? 

Loki sits still, and still can’t name the white lifelessness inside, and it doesn’t fucking matter. It doesn’t fucking matter. Nothing does. Never again. Never more.

 

It takes the sound of another car in the driveway to shake him out of it. He could tell her light steps on the stairs anywhere. He tries to tune in, switch on. He doesn’t want mom to see him like that.

She comes into his room, and she’s beaming, sunshine and love. Loki hugs her back. Still can’t feel a thing.

“How are you, darling?” she says. They saw each other three days ago but, you know. Apparently time really does go slower while he lives at Tony’s place. “Where is Thor?” she asks.

“He left,” says Loki.

There must be something in his tone, or maybe her hope is that fricking stubborn. In any case, she asks, “Did you… did you talk?”

Loki meditates for a while what to say. 

“Yes,” he admits in the end. 

His mother’s eyes light up with anticipation.

“And? How did it…?”

“Okay,” he lies. 

Her eyes brighten up to new levels.

“Are you still going away?” she asks.

_ Oh, mom. _

“Yes,” he mutters. 

Which has the expected effect of putting that expression of bafflement on her face, which is not bafflement at all. She’s not fucking stupid. She just wants to be. She wants to defeat this with sheer obtuseness. 

“But if you two talked, then…”

“Mom…” he stops her right there, with a heavy sigh. He’s getting irritated. His mother was supposed to have her feet firmly on the ground. How the hell is this family going to fucking stand if she insists on this unwillingness to fucking see reality as it is! It’s very fucking disturbing, let me tell you, to see the touchstone of your world, the strong, flawless, all-knowing figure on which everything rests, failing so spectacularly, so thoroughly, again and again, to live up to her own legend. It shouldn’t be allowed. He shouldn’t be fucking  _ able _ to look down on her as he’s doing now. He wants to fucking _ run. _

“I’m looking forward to going with Tony,” he says, managing to sound chirpy. “It will be really cool. He says I get to try learning anything I like at his parents’ company. I mean, they have all these different departments in the same building, and I can spend time with the engineers, or the designers, or the mechanics… Or all of them, if I want to. It’s a great opportunity. It will look great on my CV, won’t it? Maybe help me decide what I’d like to do? Or what I don’t like, I guess. Don’t you think it’s a good idea?”

The light in his mother’s eyes is gone. She sits on the bed.

“But it’s your brother’s last summer at home. Isn’t that… important to you?”

What can Loki possibly say that he hasn’t said before. He sits down next to her, shoulders slumping. Sigh.

“What did you say?” she asks, for the umpteenth time.

Deep sigh.

“It wasn’t about Jane,” confesses Loki. Because part of him is fucking horrified at what his mom must be picturing in her head.

“I sort of guessed that,” she says. And holds Loki’s hand between both of hers.

“It was between us, Thor and me. And he needs… he needs to not see me right now.”

She remains in silence for a moment, stroking his hand. She shakes her head heavily, and the “I don’t understand” doesn’t need to be spoken. 

One thing does need to be spoken though.

“Get off his back, will you? Please?” begs Loki softly. “Don’t go too hard on him. This is not his fault.”

“He’s an eighteen-year-old who’s managed to hold a temper tantrum for so long, he’s chucked his little brother out of the goddamn house,” she snaps back, contempt in her tone and her eyes.

That’s fucking _ wrong.  _ Loki shakes his head, speechless for a moment. The extent of the fuck up he’s caused seems to keep expanding in all directions, reaching further and further, infecting it all. He wants it to  _ stop. _

“Give him a break,” begs Loki, “please. This is not his fault.”

She stares at him. Does she sense the fucking despair in his eyes, in his voice? _ You hating him doesn’t fucking help me,  _ is what he’s saying.  _ It’s not fucking helping at all. _

She looks away, sighs. For a moment, nobody says nothing.

“You’ll be careful, won’t you?” she says after a while. 

“Sure,” he says.  _ (Careful with what?) _

“Use a condom,” she says.

“What? Mom!”

“I’m just saying!” She’s smiling now, a little. “Tony’s a good kid, but be smart, both of you.”

“Mooom!” whines Loki, covering his face, ears blowing off steam. “We don’t… Tony and I, we’re not…”

“Whatever!” she stops him, almost chuckling. “Just use a condom.”

God, he’s so terribly mortified. Is that what she’s been thinking all along?

“He’s a good kid,” she repeats. “I like him.”

“Stop.”

“He’d better be good to you, though.”

“Please,  _ enough _ . God!”

Loki gets up and rushes through the rest of his packing. 

His mother observes him with a pleased, warm smile on her face.

It actually gets his mind off things for a while. 

His mom drives him over to Tony’s this time. Loki guesses she has some things to talk over with Mr. Jarvis.

  
  


***

 

Later that night, in bed, Tony must have heard him sobbing.

Knock knock.

“Loki? Are you okay?”

He wants to scream  _ go away leave me the fuck alone, _ but he doesn’t. Tony walks in. It’s all dark. He sits on the bed.

“Hey,” says Tony softly.

Loki’s breathing is wet and stuttering. 

“I-I spoke to Thor,” he mutters. 

He guesses he should explain, but he can’t get his voice out. Instead, all the things that he should be saying gather up all together in one spot and he breaks down sobbing again.

Tony strokes his hair. Loki shuffles over, puts his head on Tony’s lap, and bawls like a baby. He cries and cries and cries. Tony doesn’t say a word. He keeps stroking his hair, whispering, “shh, shh.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit slap-dashed... expect minor edits in the near future.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki is in NYC somewhere spending his summer with Tony and thinking about things a lot.
> 
> He acts on some of those things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long one! Written in San Francisco too, how cool is that? Happy belated Solstice, and Happy Pride Month everyone!
> 
> Warning for people who get seizures over anything that isn't Thorki, see end notes first.

Loki knows this is a bad idea. That it’s not healthy. He knows it’s not helping in any way. When the rush of lust clears up, he’ll probably tell himself he’s not gonna do this again. Until next time.

 

_Storm99: with my tongue_

_Storm99: im going slow licking everything_

_Storm99: so moist and soft and u smell so good and u taste amazing. i can feel ur clit getting hard and i’m flicking that sweet little nub and lapping and sucking and i have 2 hold u down bc u cant hold still and ur hand claws in my hair and keeps me there and ur thighs are trapping me squeezing me tight and im so fucking horny bby i want to fucking eat u up_

 

On his back, on the bed, Loki licks his lips. His hips are rolling, the fabric of his jeans brushing and pressing on his growing hard-on, just a bit. Torture. He likes to tease himself like this, he makes himself keep his hands off until he’s practically fucking steaming.

He throws his head back for a moment and shuts his eyes and lets himself imagine it, visualize it. His brother’s head between his thighs, long hair falling on his face. He’s dying to… god, he wants to know how it _feels_ . A real mouth there, a real tongue. He can only squeeze a pillow between his thighs and guess. With his eyes closed, he paints Thor’s face in his imagination, trait by trait. His blue eyes in that permanent, fierce squint of his, a wolf’s squint. Looking up at him, hungry, _fuck_ . His soft, generous mouth, such an easy smile. Not always a kind smile. Often cocky, superior, smarmy, but always easy, and always blinding. He can’t remember the exact shape now, but he pushes on regardless, and he imagines his lips around… Yeah, around his cock. That half smile, then a pink wet tongue sticking out to tease him. _Hnng._ Isn’t his imagination fucking good at this or what. And isn’t Thor good at this talking dirty thing too, damn. Or is he biased. Anyway, Loki shuts his thighs tight around the pillow and whimpers.

 

_Storm99: im sucking my fingers and im letting u see and keeping u watching_

_Storm99: ur face as u wait and squirm and beg me. oh princess i could do this all day_

_Storm99: and when u think its never gonna happen and ur about to kill me i go down again and as im sucking you long and hard i slip my fingers inside u. ur so wet and horny u take me in so easily and god id die right now 2 hear u moan as i slip my fingers inside u_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: fuuuuuck_

_Storm99: r u doing it princess_

 

Loki rolls on his stomach and humps the pillow and the mattress and sobs, and he’s surprised the whole fucking bed doesn’t go up in flames, he’s that fucking horny.

But no, he won’t do it. He won’t lay one hand on himself. Not yet. It’s never as good as in his imagination. Eventually he’ll need to come, but right now holding back and delaying is better, in an exquisitely excruciating kind of way.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5456: yes hnnng_

_Storm99: im going slow in and out slow but never stopping_

_Storm99: and my tongue is flicking u gently and hmmm how would u sound bby_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: like a fucking dying moose_

_Storm99: lol_

_Storm99: so you ARE up north somewhere after all?_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: fucking hell not now_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: dont stop pls_

_Storm99: lol i fucking adore u bby_

_Storm99: u saying my name?_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: storm_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: storm…_

 

Damn fucking right he was. _Thor._

 

_One_for_Sorrow5456: storm fuck me fuck me fuck me_

 

(Thor, brother…)

 

_Storm99: patience princess_

_Storm99: im pressing with my tongue but not moving it. im fucking u slow and hard with my fingers. ur so close 2 coming ur shaking and i stop_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: fFUCK_

_Storm99: lol yes_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: goddammit_

_Storm99: i get up and i start undoing my pants_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: oh fuck_

_Storm99: can u see how hard i am bby_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: show meee_

 

_Storm99 sent a photo file_

 

As usual, no flesh. An open zip and that fucking huge erection straining a pair of tight black boxers. (Why not white, god, let me _see_.)

 

_One_for_Sorrow5456: i want 2 suck that_

_Storm99: maybe some other time bby_

_Storm99: im dying to b inside u_

_Storm99: u want that princess?_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: yes god fuck me fuck me_

 

And in his bed that day, Loki had slipped out the slim boy, and grabbed the big boy and the lube; his pants were already around his ankles, he kicked one of the legs off, spread his thighs wide open, and slicked the dildo and teased himself with it. Ignoring his cock, towering, straining, a drop of precome beading at the slit, he squirmed on his bed as he waited for his brother to go on.

 

And today, re-reading this old favourite chat, he’s just as horny and just as hard, and he can’t fucking delay anymore. He drops the phone for just a sec, rushing it, as if Storm was really waiting on the other side of the line still; he unzips and pushes his jeans down, spreads his legs wide open, and the big dildo is right there where he left it on the bedside table, and so is the lube. He slicks it up and shuts his eyes and strokes it against his ass and imagines it’s Thor holding it, Thor teasing him with it. He imagines those wolfish eyes and that smirk. And he thinks Thor would say something to tease him, to keep him dangling, as he did when they were little, and he’d nick something Loki was playing with and hold it over his head, literally keeping Loki on his toes, and little Loki would jump and jump to try and get it, and he’d get pissed off, sure, but he loved it too, didn’t he? His brother playing with him, paying him some attention, any attention, even being a jackass. Remember? Thor holding the toy high up in the air, tickling Loki under his arms whenever he got near.

_“You want it? Come get it.”_

Shit, it sounds so… so naughty now, after all that’s gone down. Loki wishes he could say it was a horrible feeling, and so terribly wrong, that his childhood memories have been corrupted in this way, but he’s past that. He got over it ages ago. He just adds it to the fantasy. Thor holding the dildo, stroking, rubbing, with Loki shaking on the bed and refusing to beg, but unable to help himself, and begging anyway, if not with words, with every atom of his body, while Thor smirks and taunts him, _“You want it? Come get it…”_ Any moment now, even in the fantasy, Thor is going to fucking call him _smurf_. And Loki won’t even care. It will probably turn him on, goddammit.

 

_Storm99: i love this bit when i can almost taste it and im so hard it hurts and i know how good its going to b_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: i hope u also love me yanking ur hair i swear to fckng god if u dont fuck me right now im going to fucking tear it off u_

_Storm99: thats my girl_

_Storm99: u really want it dont u_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: i dont know how much clearer i can make it_

_Storm99: lol i love u baby_

 

(God, me too, fucking asshole, but get on with it already…)

 

_Storm99: ur so wet and so ready for me i dont have 2 do anything. i just press a little and u take me in and ur face fuck id kill 2 see ur face when i first get inside u_

 

Loki pushes the dildo inside him and throws his head back and shuts his eyes, and he wants to _feel,_ he _needs_ to feel it so bad, his brother’s weight on top of him, his heat, his sweat, and his… his cock, god, he wants that fucking silicone inside of him to turn into flesh, Thor’s flesh, he wants it to be sensitive and real, he wants to hear how Thor sounds when he fucks into someone’s ass and his entire fucking body shudders with pleasure, and he wants to see it in his face, and he wants, he wants… he kisses the back of his hand, pretends it’s Thor’s lips, makes out with his own stupid hand like a derp because he’s pathetic like that, and he does it passionately. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he’s very close this time _(I love you, I love you Thor…)._ Then he grabs the phone again, the other hand holding the dildo still inside him, deep.

 

_Storm99: oh bby fuck i want u so fucking much._

_One_for_Sorrow5456: wth ru dng rn_

_Storm99: im waiting. not touching anything._

_Storm99: ill take care of you first bby_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: nd then?_

_Storm99: and then im gonna fuckking cry a lot bc ur not here as i fuck my fist furiously_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: hnnnnnn_

_Storm99: u got it inside u bby? ur using it?_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: yhea_

_Storm99: slow and deep princess. feel it from end to end_

 

Loki does as he is told. He would do anything he was told at this point, fucking anything.

 

_Storm99: id love to see u now on the bed fucking yrself. is it good bby?_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: iwnt 2 feel u_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: ontop of me_

_Storm99: yes princess. ud feel me breathe on ur neck. id feel ur tits suck your nipples. id feel ur ass_

_Storm99: im looking at the pics bby. ur incredible ass so fucking perfect so tight and your legs and your back. ur so fucking beautiful_

 

Loki nearly fucking died the first time Storm sent him that. Now he dies again, but with an added lashing of the everblooming all-consuming guilt over what Thor must be feeling right now, remembering saying this kind of shit, thinking this kind of thing, about his kid _brother._

The bad feeling doesn’t last though. Loki’s too horny. He knows what’s coming now, and he can’t wait to keep reading.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5456: u wannfuck myass_

_One_for_Sorrow5456:?_

_Storm99: fcuk_

_Storm99: fuck bby_

_Storm99: u want that?_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: yeha fucj yes so mucj_

_Storm99: oh princess thats a whole other ballpark id have to get u ready_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: prtend weve don that akready_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: pls tell me tell me_

_Storm99: oh fuck_

_Storm99: fuck_

_Storm99: ok so we’ve got u ready we’ve taken it easy all the time in the world and ur ready_

_Storm99: i got lots of lube on me and on u and im gonna go so slow_

_Storm99: i lie on top of u and i kiss u so deep and so sweet_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: and i grab ur cck an line it up bc come th efuck on alredy_

_Storm99: shit bby. fuck ok_

_Storm99: ur wet and relaxed and i’m kissing u and i push very gently. a little bit at a time, not quite in yet_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: i bite ur muth cuz im dsperat e_

_Storm99: princess shh shh. i want this to be good_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: pls pls pls_

_Storm99: so i push in harder and u let me in so easily and its so good so fucking good. is it good bby?_

 

Loki had the big boy in to the fucking hilt already at that point, the first time they had that conversation, and now he has it too.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5456: so gd so gd u feel so gd pls fck me_

_Storm99: princess this is so fucking sexy ur driving me fucking insane_

_Storm99: wait u doing it for real? u got the dildo in your ass now?_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: ys_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: yes_

_Storm99: fuck_

_Storm99: fuck bby_

_Storm99: is it good?_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: yea. i pretnd its u_

_Storm99: u gonna kill me princess. what a way to go_

_Storm99: u going gentle?_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: yeah_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: tell me 2 go harder_

_Storm99: that what u want?_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: tll me 2fcuk myslf hardr_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: whle u jerk off_

_Storm99: fuck baby_

_Storm99: dont hurt urself_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: i wont_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: tell me_

_Storm99: fucj bby. ok_

_Storm99: fuck yourself_

_Storm99: fuck ur ass. fuck ur ass harder._

_Storm99: imagine its me and im so turned on i’m half out of my mind. this is so hot and u fucking drive m crazy. im trying not to hurt u but im def going for it and u hold me with your thighs and i have to try really really hard not to come right now bc fuck bby ur killing me_

 

Loki goes for it, quick and hard, with his eyes closed, imagines his brother is inside him, heavy, strong, knowing it’s Loki beneath him, and it’s his _brother_ , but he’s so turned on it doesn’t fucking matter. Or maybe it _does_ , maybe it does matter. Maybe it’s even hotter because it’s so fucking wrong, maybe he’s angry at Loki for making him feel like that, for making him want this, and he takes it out on Loki, and Loki doesn’t know which is hotter, and he takes it out on himself, and he’ll be fucking sore later, but fuck, fuck, fuck…

 

_One_for_Sorrow5456: storm_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: storm_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: storm_

_Storm99: yeah bby say my name_

_One_for_Sorrow5456: sya mine_

_Storm99: Sorrow. sorrow. princess. baby. my love. sorry. sorrow_.

 

Loki is so close, he knows all he just has to do is put his hand on his cock and he’ll go off in flames. But he delays it. He wishes he could stay here, just where he is, right on the verge of coming, on the verge of fucking _dying_ , forever.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5456: storm storm storm storm_

_Storm99: i love u baby. sorrow. princess. come on bby. come for me bby._

 

Loki puts the phone down, and as he keeps going with the dildo, he closes his fist around the tip of his cock ( _brother, brother…_ ), and it would only take a bit of pressure really, but he goes full-on, strokes hard, to the hilt, and starts coming all over the fucking place, moaning, yowling like a cat being mounted.

 

“Honey, I’m home!”

Fuck. It’s Tony.

Loki bites his lips in, and muffles his sounds, but he doesn’t stop. He milks it. The dildo is giving him aftershocks, his cock is still pumping out come in his fist. _Hnnng, hnnng, hnnng… Shit… fuck..._

He lands a bit harder than he’d like, thinking of Tony outside, but he’s flooded in it. This was fucking _gooood_.

When the magic spell starts to lift, he has a vision of himself as he is now, sprawling on the bed, half dressed, come on his hand, on his stomach, on his t-shirt, on his thigh, and on the covers soon, and the fucking bedside table too, and the drawer handle possibly, because where the fuck are the fucking tissues…

“Loki?” That would be Tony, wondering why Loki isn’t back from “work” yet. What if he comes in the bedroom to check.

“I’m… in here!” calls Loki. “Hang on a sec, I’m changing!”

“Right-oh, Loki-oh!” sing-songs Tony, clattering outside.

Loki wipes the mess on his hands on the t-shirt. Then he takes it off, careful not to smear jizz on his face or his hair. With shaky hands, and a throbbing ass, he wipes his stomach, his cock, pubes, balls, butt, between his thighs. He’s a disaster area. Then he fumbles with his jeans trying to get them on again (his hands are shaky —Tony startled him, and he’s still reeling from the pretty colossal orgasm he just gave himself.) He throws the t-shirt into the dirty laundry pile in the corner, to wash later with the rest of the stuff, picks a fresh one, racks fingers through his hair to try and tidy it up a bit (fail), and fuck, why does he feel like he’s been caught with his hands in the cookie jar? It’s not like Tony doesn’t jerk off, several times a day if he can.

He still needs a little inhale-exhale to chill before he steps out of the room. He wishes he wasn’t so pale. He tends to get all rosy after an orgasm, face and neck. It’s extremely telling, and there’s no way of toning it down.

“Oh,” smiles Tony when he sees him, arched eyebrows, a knowing grin. “Did anything fun today?”

“Hah, hah,” deadpans Loki.

Tony smiles from ear to ear. His own cheeks go a bit pink.

“I meant at work,” he says.

“Sure you did.”

Tony keeps grinning, and doesn’t make any more protestations. Loki gets himself a glass of water.

“What did you do?” he asks.

“Still stuck on that budget 3D printer project,” says Tony. “We’re closer every day, I suppose, but at some point we’ll just have to say, look dad, from here on it’s a case of sourcing the right contractors or getting generous patrons, there’s only so much we can do to simplify the assembly and lower the costs.”

“That’s for the Foundation, right?”

“Yeah. What did you do today?”

“They had me try a new simulator. For interior designers and architects and landscapers and engineers and such. It’s VR. You can sort of create and inhabit the space, and with the gloves you can throw lines around like Spiderman webs, or you know, broaden and bend the space around you like in _The Matrix,_ or you grab the walls and move them around, or tear a window in a wall and drag it until you like where it is… And then you turn and you can see how the room looks around you, feel the space. They want to add features like real sunlight in the chosen area and such, so you can simulate how the light hits the place during the day, and more things like that.”

“Sounds very cool.”

“It’s very cool. The idea is that you create the thing organically, and then you can easily 3D print the model, or present it to the client using the VR equipment, or on a 3D screen, or whatever. But it’s not very good when you get to the little technical things, like adding building specs―wall thicknesses or fire door regulations and all that. When they try to factor that in, the program can’t take it; it becomes a fucking _Inception_ nightmare. I tried to work in some of the specs for a wall, and the thing pretty much exploded. _Boom_ , seven hundred useless layers suddenly appeared, and three extra rooms, all in the same place, superimposed, with a bit of a tilt to boot. It made the thing crash. And it gave me a headache.”

“Not so cool.”

“Nah. They have to make up their minds, though. Right now, what they’re going for it’s a very flashy, very expensive toy for, say, homeowners playing architects, or interior designers creating projections for their clients, but I think they should be focusing on large scale projects for professionals, at least at first, developing it for big architectural firms and stuff, not just because they might be able to afford the first versions, but because as it is now, I think it would be great for, I don’t know, big stadiums or concert halls or things like that, where the details are not so fiddly. The program can already factor in engineering specs, so if you try to create a cupola, for example, the proportions will respect what can be done in reality, and it pops like a bubble if you exceed it. So if they refine it, it’s the kind of tech that could help a firm really win a contest or sell a project. But that requires somebody approving the change of strategy, and the push to develop the specific features that would work for this kind of user, and I’m not sure the guy who started the project is very flexible. He has a vision for this program being the next… what’s the name, AutoCad, essential software, one in every architectural firm. I’m not sure how it could work out, definitely not in the short term, because there is too much work left to do before it’s anywhere near ready, and it's too expensive. The girl in charge for your company agrees with me, though.”

“Pepper?”

“Yeah. That would be Miss Potts to you.”

“She’s gorgeous. And a genius. She’ll run the company one day, when I’m in charge.”

“And she’ll do very well, I’m sure,” says Loki, with a grin. Tony’s crush on this particular trainee, currently Mrs. Stark’s PA (more like sub-CEO) is kind of adorable. “Anyway, they wanted me to keep playing with it tomorrow, but I think I’ll tell them to give me a break. It really fucks with my head when it goes wonky.”

“So you took some _down_ time, I see.”

“Fuck off.” Loki’s blushing even worse now.

“They love you on the testing floor,” says Tony. “You have a job there right now if you want it.”

“Hm.”

“True. Dad said you’re great because you ask all the right questions and you always find a way to put the team on the spot.”

“And they love me for that?”

“Well, dad does.”

“Right.”

“And mom loves you too. For other reasons.”

Loki doesn’t comment on that. He knows what Tony’s getting at. He wouldn’t know what to say.

“I come bearing gifts,” says Tony, cutting short the awkward silence, and nods in the direction of the takeaway bag on the worktop.

“Oh, Korean. Nice.”

 

They plop their butts on the couch, spread the food on the coffee table, put on a Netflix documentary about counterculture in the 60s. Loki isn’t paying much attention. His mind, left unattended, tends to drift off very quickly towards the center of the known universe, and what he must be doing right now. Swimming lessons with the kiddies? Boozing with his friends? Freaking out over his incredibly perverted, extremely fucking sick brother who is in fucking love with him, and had him talking dirty and jerking off to his fucking lingerie nudes? Asking for dick pics? Expressing in every possible way his panting desire for his huge hard cock? Sheesh. Once more, Loki wonders if it wouldn’t have been better to let Thor believe it was all a stupid, childish prank. But he remembers the anger and the hurt in Thor’s eyes and he just…

_“What did I ever do to you that you hate me so much. Why do you hate me like this.”_

Hate you? _Hate you? Oh, brother…_ Loki’s chin gets instantly wobbly. If he doesn’t get his mind off things, he’s gonna be dropping big fat tears in a second, fuck.

So he glues his eyes on the screen and tries to follow the disquisition on the part misogyny played on the assessment of Yoko Ono’s art, and it’s then that Loki notices the quick glances Tony is throwing at him.

“What?” he says eventually.

Tony opens his mouth and closes it again.

“Seriously, what?” insists Loki.

“I, uh.” Tony looks intently at his ramen. “Would you like to go on a date with me some time?”

Loki’s stomach does a full cartwheel and then plummets.

“Fuck, no,” he jumps.

“Okay,” says Tony softly, his face lowered. He looks miserable, trying to put a brave face on it, and failing.

“No,” Loki rushes to add, with a healthy fluster. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean. I-I’m not good at social situations, and… I think if I was asked on a date, with all the build up and the expectations and, you know, everything, I think I would probably… die? Before I ever got to actually go on it?”

“Oh,” says Tony, now with a tentatively hopeful grin. “So, it’s not about me personally?”

Loki goes quiet. It’s not like he hasn’t been thinking constantly about this possibility for the three weeks they’ve been flatmates with Tony in this cosy townhouse in Brooklyn. He knew before he ever said yes to this that Tony has a crush on him. And hell, for all his goddamn fantasies, he still has a reasonable brain between his ears, and at least theoretically, he knows he has to leave this total madness of Storm and Sorrow behind, move on, try to get to a healthier place.

And yeah, he thinks Tony could help him get there. He’s not sure if he is attracted to Tony at all, but Loki’s comfortable around him. Tony makes him laugh, from time to time, when Loki’s up to laughing anyway. They enjoy similar things. And he… He likes Tony’s face. And it’s not like anything stirs inside when Loki looks at his body (like it does with Thor’s body, when there’s not so much a stirring as a fucking earthquake of lust), but Darcy’s totally right that Tony has a great butt. As for the rest, he’s softer than Loki in places (that would be baby fat, aw), but it’s not unpleasant at all; and he works out a lot too — he’s self-conscious about being short, and he’s trying to get at least more buff — he has great shoulders and arms, and a very attractive back and neck. Loki gets confusing sensations whenever he actually thinks of… well, kissing, touching, all that, but it’s not so bad that he can’t even entertain the possibility in his mind.

And to be completely fair, he’s horny as fuck these days. Maybe that’s enough to get him through whatever the fuck it is in his brain that keeps him from being fucking _normal_. He should count himself lucky if Tony wanted to help him with that. He’s great all around.

“I… No, it’s not you personally,” it’s what Loki finally manages. “I… I enjoy spending time with you.”

It sounds lackluster and underwhelming to him, but Tony doesn’t seem to think the same. His eyes are glinting.

“So,” he says, “if we went out for some food and then a movie or something one day, like we’ve done before, would you be totally opposed to the possibility that we called it a date once we got back?”

Loki puts down his ramen, wipes his hands obsessively. What a frikking weird question.

“We get back and then what?” he asks.

“Nothing,” says Tony. “Absolutely nothing.”

What does he mean, nothing? (Is that disappointment?)

“Then how is it a date,” he asks.

“I mean we get back and it’s whatever you want,” says Tony. “I wouldn’t expect… anything, you know. Wouldn’t take it for granted that we… nothing.”

Loki’s managed to turn the tissue to ribbons at this point.

“What if we didn’t go out,” he mumbles. “What if we had take-out and then watched Netflix and called it a date. Skip all the ceremony. Make it… simple.”

Tony stares intently.

“And then what,” he says.

“I don’t know,” mumbles Loki, the tissue being reduced to its molecular components in his nervous hands. “Kissing. Maybe.”

A long, long stare from Tony.

“Are you saying you want me to kiss you right now?” asks Tony.

“No. Yes.” Loki huffs. “Shit, I don’t know.”

Tony waits. And Loki reclines back on the couch and closes his eyes, sick of himself.

“I’m a fucking mess,” he hisses.

“Why?”

More huffing.

“You know why.” (Yeah, he more or less gave Tony the lowdown on his pitiful love life to this point.) “I… don’t have a lot of experience. And the only good experiences I’ve had with other people have been with my… Shit.”

“With Thor, online,” completes Tony.

Loki hides his face behind his hands, shame burning in his gut.

“I’m so fucking sick,” he groans.

“Don’t say that.”

“What the fuck am I going to say?” snaps Loki from his hideout.

“Online stuff and in-the-flesh stuff are different things,” says Tony.

Loki shakes his head.

“You know I don’t get that excuse,” he groans.

Tony reclines on the couch next to him, quiet for a moment, pondering.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about it. You and Thor.”

“‘Course you have,” grumbles Loki.

“No, listen,” cuts Tony. “I was thinking of what we were talking about the other day. About how you struggle with people and sex and all that. And it sort of started to make sense to me, what happened.”

“It _what?”_ gasps Loki.

“You said you two had been distant for a long time. You weren’t being superbrotherly, right? That he even felt like a stranger sometimes. So there were like all these layers between you and him, because of that. And then you went and created another degree of… another layer between you, even _more_ distance from brotherly feelings, what with the online personas and so on, the fantasy. You felt sort of like someone else when you talked to him online. And it all made him less and less your brother. You know what I mean? But you still trust him completely, and you know him well, and you have a strong emotional connection with him, because he _is_ your brother. So that bridge is there, in spite of it all, in spite of all the distance and all the layers, but filtered, or diluted, or… or confused, I don’t know. So you have these… lenses, these filters in front of your eyes, and you start to see him with other eyes, and it started to… you know, happen. And also, his physical body is not there to throw you off? He’s in your brain, so you have control over it, and you can switch it off at any time. You control the fantasy, how much or how little you want to get into it. You ease yourself into it, and you get to break up all the mental barriers at your own pace. And it sort of makes sense. That it would work out for you with him.”

Loki’s been listening with wide eyes, half of him wanting to nod conversationally (“uh-huh, I see”), the other half bashing pots and pans and refusing to listen to anything so… so reasonable, so organized, so… freeing.

Guess which side wins.

“Makes _sense_?” says Loki, abrasive.

“Yeah. Sort of.”

“It’s _sick_.”

“Stop fucking saying that,” snaps Tony, actually looking offended, as if it was about himself. “Do you honestly believe that? That you should go to a doctor and get it out of you? Get therapy? That there’s something wrong with your brain?”

Loki returns a baffled look. _What?_

“It’s just something you feel,” insists Tony, hammering it in. “It doesn’t make you bad, or crazy, or dangerous, or evil. You saying ‘it’s sick’ doesn’t explain it, or help get it out of you, it only makes you feel bad. So fucking stop saying it!”

Loki frowns, in complete confusion, unable to compute. He had never considered for a moment he could drop the _sick_ thing. He felt that recognizing that was the last thing binding him to sanity.

“For the record, I don’t think you’re sick. I think you’re great,” mumbles Tony, staring at his hands. “Life is weird. Weird things happen. So this happened to you. It’s… unusual. But _you’re_ unusual, in so many ways. And for the record, I happen to like that about you.”

“You like that I have the hots for my _brother_?”

Tony snorts, then laughs.

“Comes with the package, I suppose,” he mumbles. “I just like you, okay?”

Now they’re both quiet and meditative.

“I like you too,” mumbles Loki, after an eternity.

Tony smiles.

“Want to watch something?” he asks.

“Like what.”

“I got just the thing. Hang on a sec.” Tony fiddles with the remote. “Have you seen it?”

“No. Heard about it.”

“Oh, you’ll love it.”

 

They watch without a word as the thing unfolds. The setting is golden, gorgeous, and dreamy, and the big blond giant, Oliver, is also golden, gorgeous, and dreamy, and the dark haired twink, Elio, oh fuck, the resemblance is almost un-fucking-canny. Really not sure if Tony picked the right film for the occasion, but never mind. Loki watches with glassy eyes, enthralled, poor messed up Elio looking on as Oliver, so fucking huge and blond and handsome, dances and romances that girl; watching the emotions unfolding on Elio’s face, shit, is like looking into a mirror. Loki is shaken. He remembers staring at Thor and one of his girlfriends exactly like that. It hits him like a steam train, the Fucking Question, the potential Revelation: is it possible that he’s felt like this for his brother _his entire life?_ Because damn if it wasn’t sheer fucking jealousy that kept Loki’s eyes glued to Thor and his girls, it’s now clear as day. He fucking _is_ Elio in that scene, with the confusion resolving into pain as he realizes what he’s fucking feeling, so simple, so obvious: he wants what he can’t have.

And when Elio longs and pines for Oliver, Loki feels the boy’s ache in his own bones; the awful dance between the two of them, so-near-so-far, the yearning, the burning desire, the will he-won’t he. And Loki knows it’s going to happen eventually, he knows what the film is about after all, but he’s on the edge of his seat just the same, absorbed, as Oliver the blond giant lets Elio get nearer and nearer, one inch at a time, until that one kiss and a grope.

_“We’ve done nothing to be ashamed of ourselves yet.”_

_Shit._ Oh, it’s too fucking much. Loki is trying to keep a cool façade, but the upheaval that’s taking place in his mind is also happening on his face, he’s sure. Is Tony seeing it?

And when it happens, when they actually finally kiss and then fuck, Loki stops breathing. I mean, you don’t see much, but you don’t have to. Just the way they hold each other, Elio’s lily white skin against the skin of Oliver the golden giant. The thirst on Elio’s eyes and face and body is too fucking real, drawn to Oliver’s body like a fucking sunflower turning to the sun. Loki feels called out.

And he can’t hold in the uninterrupted stream of tears and sobs for the last ten minutes or so.

“This ending sucks,” he says as the credits roll, sniffing.

“I know, right?” says Tony, who seems unaffected. Well, he’s seen it before. “I guess they wanted it to be realistic.”

“Fuck reality.” _Sob._

Tony laughs. It’s not funny. It’s _so_ not funny.

“I guess they have a point though,” Tony muses, “with letting yourself feel everything that life…”

“Kiss me,” cuts Loki. He just blurts it out.

Tony turns to him, Loki sees it out of the corner of his eye. He has to make an effort to look up.

“You mean that?” asks Tony.

Does he? The movie’s hit him deep. And it’s made him very fucking horny too, but what doesn’t these days. And reality sucks, it fucking sucks hairy sweaty stinky fucking bollocks. And Loki is so sick of this, so fucking done with it all, with himself, with… with pining and sighing and yearning and trying to ground himself, keep his brain in check, keep making himself face the shitty reality _._  

He’s clinging to something that’s going to be the fucking end of him. Why must everything be so tragic. Enough. Why can’t it be sweet and easy. Tony is sweet and easy. And he’s _right fucking there,_ with his huge brown eyes and his hard-on for Loki. Loki’s sick of having to _imagine_ things. And yeah, true, Tony has real feelings for him, and Loki is a fucking mess, and this is probably not okay, but. But how will he ever get through this if he doesn’t fucking push a little?

As the fucking cherry on the cake, he remembers some wise words somebody once told him. He’s read them so many times, so many times. And he’s thought about them a lot too.

_“u just need to try with someone u can trust and u’r attracted to and then take it easy, don’t force it. there’s no rush”_

_Is_ he attracted to Tony? Shit, he doesn’t have a clue. He likes him. As a person. His body is… cute. His eyes are nice. He has a sexy smirk. And Loki definitely trusts him.

“Kiss me,” he insists, just a whisper.

With deliberation, and no rush, Tony cups his chin, makes Loki’s face turn just a bit, and puts a peck on his lips. Which feels… like absolutely nothing at all.

“That’s it?” asks Loki.

Tony grins, lopsided, and Loki thinks shit, that smirk _is_ sexy.

So Loki leans that little bit closer, and possibly pouts a little, and Tony lets his eyes droop, gently cups Loki’s jaw again, and strokes his lips on Loki’s. He takes his time there, and as he pulls apart, he pinches Loki’s bottom lip slightly. And then he drills Loki with his eyes, inquisitive. A little nod, a question, “how about this?”

Loki himself doesn’t fucking _know_. He’s nervous, that’s for sure. There’s this rolling sensation in his stomach. But it’s not one of the really unpleasant ones. It’s just there, churning, churning. Maybe a normal person would just call it butterflies.

“More?” asks Tony.

Loki nods quickly, before he gets the chance to overthink it, and Tony leans in again, a slow stroke of those full lips, pressing a bit more strongly, a bit of wetness. And Loki closes his eyes, and tries to return the kiss. Tony’s hand is still cupping his jaw, his thumb on Loki’s cheek. Even his little inexperienced self can tell that Tony knows what he’s doing, and in a way that Loki did not expect, thinking of Tony’s _experience_ gives him a tingle of something that’s not nerves or anxiety at all, but exhilaration.

After it’s been going on for a minute or two, Loki’s feeling it everywhere. Not in a bad way. He… he likes it?

Tony pulls apart and stares, assessing Loki’s reaction.

“Okay?”

Loki nods, flustered. It _is_ . It _is_ fucking okay. _Things are going well._ Physical reaction, yes, check, but... no panic! He _can_ keep it up. He can fucking _do_ this. He’s fucking _excited_. So before things take a bad turn, Loki grabs those ears, and kisses him again. Tony immediately closes his eyes, like this is heaven and he’s in glory, his hands holding gently Loki’s head, stroking his hair. Loki wonders where should he put his hands now. He settles for the shoulders. Tony is returning the kiss with interest, and now they’ve been at it for a minute or two. This is not just kissing anymore. This has officially crossed into the land of making out. Tony moans softly. And oh his god, is he… is Loki getting an actual hard-on?

Tony’s kisses move to Loki’s neck, and wow, that fucking shiver, what a thrill. His hands rake deep into Loki’s hair. And yes he _is_ , he fucking _is_ —Loki is getting aroused, good and proper. And he’s _not_ about to be sick. He can’t fucking believe it.

Soon enough they’re horizontal on the couch, and Loki’s even forgot to check for some time if he was getting queasy. He’s too busy _making out._ And turned on as fuck! Tony’s hard dick is bulging and pressing against him and it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s good. When Tony’s thigh insinuates between his, Loki totally parts his legs to welcome it. Tony pushes up a bit harder, while he keeps driving Loki mad kissing the crook of his neck, Loki rides his thigh. The pressure is fucking _bliss_ , so much better than humping the mattress or rubbing like a dog against a fucking armchair. He’s thinking of the movie, thinking of thick golden thighs, and shuddering in Tony’s arms, clutching his tiny body close, pressing down and rubbing against his thigh, and he’s gonna come, he’s gonna come, he’s gonna…

“Fuck… _fuck_ …”

He whimpers like a kitten as he comes in his fucking pants, face buried in Tony’s neck. Fuck. I mean… fuck.

He’s panting now, shaken, wet. Tony is panting too.

“You okay?” mumbles Tony.

Loki nods emphatically, his face still buried in his neck. Which is sweaty, but it’s not horrible. They stay for a moment exactly as they are. Tony’s cock is as hard as fucking iron.

“What are you gonna do?” asks Loki, after a while.

“About?”

“You know.”

“What do you think I should do?”

Loki thinks of the things he’s said he’d like to do to Storm. He doesn’t want to do any of them to Tony. He shrugs.

“I’ll jerk off,” says Tony.

“Can I watch?”

Tony’s face is like, “ooooh”.

“Absolutely,” he says, grinning like a pirate.

Loki shuffles a bit to leave him some room, and definitely watches, absolutely fascinated, as Tony unzips, no rush, and deploys proudly. It’s not that Loki has been thinking much about what Tony’s dick looked like, but anyway, if he had, that wouldn’t be what he had imagined. It looks like such a… a _grown up_ dick. Had Loki been expecting something more… teenagey? To go with his boyish looks?

Tony spits in his palm and takes himself in hand, and Loki’s thoughts about anatomy go out the window, because Tony is patient and sensual and treats himself exquisitely, and Loki is fucking fascinated. This is the work of a guy who knows his craft. He toys with the head, keeps adding spit, teases himself, and rolls and tugs his sack, as he hisses, gasps, shivers. Loki’s learning a few things tonight.

“Look at me?” says Tony, breathy,

“I fucking _am_ looking,” says Loki.

“No. _Me.”_

Loki turns to those warm, drowsy brown eyes that want so badly to close, but Tony won’t let them.

“Kiss?”

Can do. Loki puts his mouth on Tony’s, and feeling so very bold and daring, he puts his hand on the fist Tony has around his cock. Which seems to do wonderful and indecent things to Tony, the way he moans.

“I wish it was your mouth,” he whispers, breathy.

“I can’t-I… I can’t do it,” Loki jumps, backing away, mouth and hand off.

“Not asking,” mutters Tony, toying with his cock, eyes closed. “Can I imagine it?”

“I guess.”

Tony smirks, and continues giving himself a most excellent time, only staring at Loki under heavy lids, staring at his lips, as if he was about to eat him.

When he finally stops teasing and goes for it, Loki sort of pictures himself actually taking it in his mouth, and… shit, he’s getting horny again. Tony slams down hard, the noise is a perfect _fap fap fap._ It never gets frantic or furious, but it definitely gets, well, serious. Then Tony opens his mouth wide and comes with short, sharp gasps, and Loki can’t take his eyes off the ropes of come spilling out, as if he’d never seen it happen before.

Tony groans when his fist slows down and squeezes the last out of it, licks his lips, and wow. The look of bliss on his face, after all that tension building up. Lips reddened and now shiny wet. Dreamy eyes. He looks… Yes, shit, he looks beautiful.

It hits Loki then that this is the first time he’s had an orgasm with someone else in real life. And all he can think of is _I wish it had been Thor._

Tony looks at him all mellow and purry, and tries to kiss him. And Loki wants to let him, but he’s gone stiff and tense as fuck.

“Hey,” mumbles Tony softly. “Okay?”

Loki kisses him, but it feels rigid, clumsy. With his lust satisfied and his brain clear, he feels… Shit, he’s mentally and physically backing out of this so fast he can hear the screech and smell burnt rubber in his head.

“Hey…” Tony sits up, concerned, gentle.

Loki babbles as he extricates himself from the situation and the couch, the wetness in his pants gone cold, feeling clammy and uncomfortable.

“I’m… it’s okay. I just… Sorry. I need… Sorry.”

He tries not to run, but he has to get clean right _now._ He sees Tony out of the corner of his eye; he looks distraught, confused. The sickliness starts to stir in Loki’s stomach. Shit, shit, shit. This is all fucking _wrong_ . Using Tony like this. Like an _experiment_. Shit.

 

When he’s locked in the bathroom, his panic settles down. He gets rid of his clothes and gets in the shower. His brain doesn’t stop bashing him over what just happened for one fucking second. Shit. Tony doesn’t fucking deserve this. _Your momma taught you better than this, Odinson. You’re fucking poison. Everything you touch you..._ Shit.

 

He’s toweling his hair furiously when there’s a rap on the door.

“Loki?”

He wishes he could just vanish, disappear, escape. Go back in time, undo the wrong. It’s impossible. It’s done.

Loki’s in the baggiest, unsexiest sweats he’s got when he opens the door. He can’t meet Tony’s eyes. He notices Tony’s changed his t-shirt.

He doesn’t know what to fucking say. _Sorry I used your fucking thigh to scratch an itch?_ _Sorry I coasted on your feelings for me to try and quash the fucking clusterfuck in my brain?_

“What is it? What’s wrong?” asks Tony softly.

_That I wish you were my brother._

“I’m a fucking mess,” mumbles Loki, close to tears.

“It’s okay,” says Tony. “Really.”

“It’s not.”

Tony looks at him for a long time.

“Is this about Thor?”

Loki pales as his stomach lurches.

“I know Thor is there. I know he’s not gonna go away that easy,” says Tony. “But just… It’s nice, this, here, with you. Was it nice for you?”

Loki thinks about it. He doesn’t fucking know. It _was_ nice, then it was _really_ nice, then it was everything but. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling, except that he’s… God, he really should be kept from civilized, decent company.

“I need to…” He physically starts to back away and into the bedroom.

“Hey, don’t hide,” says Tony, reaching with his hand. “Get out here, let’s watch something.”

“I’m tired,” whispers Loki, voice weak.

Tony nods, and lets that stand.

“Okay. But don’t hide. Yeah?”

Loki nods.

“Kiss goodnight?” asks Tony.

Loki makes eye contact for that. He’s not sure if that counts as stringing him along or not, but he… he wants to do something nice for him. He tilts his head back a bit for an answer, and Tony puts a gentle peck on his lips. Which feels friendly and light and nice and untroubled. Thank god.

“Don’t stew in it, eh?” says Tony, one finger stroking distractedly the back of Loki’s hand. “It’s all good. This was great. And I’m good. Okay?”

Loki nods, his pants on fire. He’s going to fucking stew in it alright. He’s going to stew in it so much, and for so long, he’s gonna be melted into a fucking sauce by morning.

“See you tomorrow,” says Tony, with a wink.

 

In bed, unable to sleep, what’s happened with Tony only focuses his mind for a while, surprisingly, before the usual nightly shitshow starts to unreel in Loki’s mind. Not as vivid as it was at first, and the terror is gone, but it fills him with an all-consuming, overwhelming sadness. It’s his brother in the room, in Loki’s _face_ , looking worse than furious, and worse than murderous. He’s looking hurt _,_ betrayed, brokenhearted. How could Loki do this to him?

_“Was it fun for you?”_

Oh, Thor…

Thor was screaming, his voice had failed him several times.

_“Did you get some sort of sick pleasure knowing how much I fucking suffered? And what about the rest, playing the sweet caring brother to my face, while you were, what, laughing the moment I turned my back?! Did you enjoy it, messing up with my brain like that?”_

Loki feels the tears building up. He doesn’t fight it. He doesn’t try to get his mind off it. He deserves this.

_“Did you think that the longer it went for, the more fucked up it would be for me, all the more humiliating and shameful and… and fucking painful!”_

Here come the sobs.

_“What-what did I ever do to you that you hate me so much. Why do you hate me like this.”_

Loki curls on his side and cries. It’s not the wretched, desperate bawling of the first few nights. It’s not like a sudden downpour that drops on you all at once and then leaves you shocked and soaked; it’s slower and persistent, and it’s going to be coming down for a long, long time. There’s the occasional thunderbolt when he remembers the look of shock and horror on his brother’s face the moment Loki couldn’t fucking stop himself from telling him the truth.

“ _I love you, Thor.”_

This probably made it a million times worse for Thor, more twisted, more fucked up, but not for Loki. He got to say it, he got to say it to his brother’s face. And being the selfish little shit that he is, he’s actually happy that he cannot take it back.

_“I don’t want to think about it ever again. Ever.”_

Shit.

In about six weeks, Thor is leaving for college. Trying to be generous and selfless (which he tries, he does―he wants to be a good person, a better brother), all Loki can hope for is that Thor will manage to pull himself together and leave this behind him, where it can’t hurt him anymore.

_“I don’t want to think about it ever again. Ever.”_

Fuck. But what if Thor can’t leave it behind? What if he’s as screwed up over the whole thing as Loki is? What if he starts doing stupid things, getting shitfaced and up to god knows what, and he flunks his courses and fucks up his scholarship and…? God, please, no. How much more guilt can Loki’s scrawny body pack on? Or his twisted brain?

Shit, if only he could just… “Can I talk to him?” he keeps wanting to ask his mom when he calls home. But what in the world would he fucking say? What _can_ he say that he hasn’t said yet? Or what good would it do if he tried to take things back? What difference could it possibly make?

No. The best thing for everyone involved is for Thor to forget entirely that Loki even exists. So absolutely no talking on the phone. Not yet anyway. Maybe never again?

This is Loki’s cue to start crying again. God, it never ends. He’s so tired.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's a bit of Ironfrost in this, explicit, descriptive, detailed. I feel it's entirely needed and justified. If you need to skip it, it comes after "“Kiss me,” he insists, just a whisper.", and it ends officially with " Yes, shit, he looks beautiful." But I feel you'll be missing out developments if you do skip it.
> 
> However, for the record, Ironfrost is NOT endgame. Thorki is, now and always. 
> 
> (*) The film Tony and Loki watch is Call Me By Your Name, by Luca Guadagnino, with Timothée Chalamet (twink) and Armie Hammer (big blond giant), just in case there is anyone here who doesn't know it? I thought it was too much of a good fit not to use it. And yeah, feel free to imagine sweet little Tim as teenage Loki here, if you like. I do sometimes, and I feel things.
> 
> PS: PLEASE don't send me "Pls update" or "when's the next update" kinda things. I DON'T HAVE A FUCKING CLUE. I'M DOING WHAT I CAN.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hear you folks wanted to know how Thor was doing? So here's like ten thousand words of that.

 

“Up you go, Rocky,” says Thor, helping the six-year-old up the ladder and out of the pool.

“I kicked real hard, didn’t I, Mr. Thor?” says the excited little boy as he takes a seat on the edge of the pool, feet in the water.

“You kicked like an Olympic champion,” says Thor, wiping his thoroughly splashed face, water dripping from his hair right into his eyes. Like an Olympic champion, alright. “Okay, who’s next? Teva. Give me your hand, jump in. Don’t worry, I got you. Hah, wow, look at that splash! You alright? Did you swallow any water? You’re alright. Good girl. Okay, you ready? Hold on to the float; don’t be afraid, you won’t sink, I got you. Kick with your feet. That’s right. Keep kicking, Teva… That’s it, kick, kick, kick… Almost there… Keep kicking… There you go. You made it, see? Good girl. Give me your hand. Sit down with your mates. You did great. Okay, who’s next?”

He has another twenty minutes to go with this lot, and then comes another group, even younger.

The job at the swimming pool was Thor’s best idea in forever. For a full six hours every day, Monday to Saturday, he’s surrounded by (often covered in) kids from three to eight years old, some boisterous and reckless, some shy and timid, all of them excited and tireless. They demand his full attention in groups of up to ten at a time. As per the job description, he has to keep a “positive, upbeat attitude”, and be “nurturing, supportive and encouraging, fun and engaging”. In other circumstances, _positive and upbeat_ is Thor’s default mode, so right now he's faking it until somewhere down the line every day, he makes it. And he likes kids, for a while anyway. So basically he’s a great fit for the job, and he enjoys it. He asked for all the hours they could give him. It’s exhausting, but when he’s driving home he feels like he’s had a good, productive day, on top of the nice bucks he’s earned, which go straight into the piggy bank to make his life easier in college.

There _is_ a downside, however. Several moms have made a pass at him, not necessarily the divorced ones alone. What a mess that would be. It’s the last thing he needs, but hell, he’s only fucking human, and he has been tempted. He’s gone without for _months_ now. He doesn’t even jerk off. He still feels… Yeah, he can’t do it yet without his mind filling up with memories and images of… Anyway.

When he’s done with the swimming lessons, he usually swims laps for a couple of hours. He’s not jogging in the mornings anymore (too hot) so swimming is a good option to help him get to bed as exhausted as possible.

He used to wear waterproof earbuds at first, blasting heavy metal, surrounding his head in a wall of noise, to distract himself from everything he didn’t want to think about. Not that it really worked. It felt like the stuff he was trying to avoid wasn’t even _in_ his head anymore - it was wrapped around him like a wet sheet, clammy and awful. For a good while he had felt a sort of constant horror of being in his own skin, in his own body, as if he was locked up in a room with a pile of rotting corpses, unable to get out, feeling the stench and the miasma seeping into him, deep in his pores, in his nostrils, in the fucking roots of his hair. He thought he would never feel clean again.

But then, just before Loki left for New York, Thor had confronted his brother and demanded answers. And boy, did he get his answers or what.

_“It was all real. I am Sorrow. I always was. I love you, Thor.”_

It wasn’t just what Loki _said_. It was the way he _looked like_ when he said it -like he had no fucks left to give, and this was his deathbed confession. As if he really expected Thor would just go ahead and fucking murder him right after, and he didn’t even care what happened to him anymore. Almost as if... as if the truth mattered _more_.

At the very beginning, Thor couldn’t think about it properly. He couldn’t _think_ , period. _Shit, Loki, you can’t possibly mean what you’ve just fucking told me._

 _"It was all real."_ What the fuck does that mean? How could it be real? How the fuck can Loki claim to be Sorrow? How the fuck would that even _work_? What in the actual hell, Loki?

_"It was all real. I love you, Thor."_

And how the hell was Thor supposed to react to that? What the fuck was he supposed to say, or think, or feel? _His little brother has lost his fucking mind!_ He almost, almost wanted to believe Loki was still fucking with him because the alternative was that his brother was fucking _insane_. And Thor can’t ask for help, he can’t tell _anyone_ , because… Shit, because he’ll end up in the fucking padded cell right next to Loki's!

Yeah, to say he was in shock that day, and the days that followed, would be a gross understatement.

But then something weird started to happen. Not exactly sure when or how, not exactly able to pinpoint the moment it began to turn.

Loki had left, the house was quiet, his mother was brooding, his dad was philosophically quiet and tactful, and Thor was glum, and after a few days he started to realize that… It’s hard to explain. It’s like somebody had walked in while he wasn’t looking and had unlocked the door of the horror room, and Thor had wandered out of it without even realizing. And one day he had looked around, and there he was somehow, in the open air, and he could breathe again without feeling permanently sick and disgusted and ashamed, burning with righteous vengeful anger.

And he can’t explain what’s changed, but something _has_ changed. Now he swims without his earbuds. He doesn’t need to smash his brain with thundering music to keep his thoughts in check. They’re still there, like a swarm, a constant buzz, but he can deal with them, he can live with them. Up and down, up and down, repeated motions, arm, kick, breathe, arm, kick, breathe. He can _think_. He can think without wanting to tear his hair clean off his scalp, scream and throw up and smash things against walls. He is calm.

_“It was all real. I am Sorrow. I always was. I love you, Thor.”_

Arm, kick, breathe. Arm, kick, breathe.

He still feels overwhelmed by it all. He still has no idea what to do with it. But instead of a deafening racket of all the things they did and the things they said as Storm and Sorrow coming back to him in terrifying screams and cries, there are whispers, murmurs, echoes. Sure it’s busy in his head, but at least it’s not so loud. It’s the calm after a mighty big storm that has ravaged the land. One can tell how brutal it was from the destruction it left behind, but now that it has cleared, the sky is blue and innocent like it never happened, like it never turns into a crazy place of thunder and lightning and terrible winds and rain, all conspiring to beat some humility into the naked apes that build skyscrapers and dams and believe they rule this planet.

Anyway, back to earth. Thor still doesn’t have a fucking clue what he’s actually feeling. It’s slippery as fuck. It dissolves between his fingers whenever he tries to get a hold of it.

Arm, kick, breathe. Arm, kick, breathe.

The only thing he is sure of? The only thing that’s clear? _He’s not angry anymore._ He is not furious. He’s not seething with resentment and outrage.

Maybe he should be, who knows, but he isn’t. And it’s fine by him. He’s had _enough_. He’s tired, he’s sad, he’s confused, and he’s shaken, but he can think of Loki without rage clogging his mind, and that’s good.

Arm, kick, breathe. Arm, kick, breathe.

 

 

***

 

 

At home, after he’s done rinsing and hanging up his gear to dry, he sits in the swing on the back porch with a beer. He’s got his phone with him so that he can pretend to be busy if mom or dad pop their heads to check on him. Otherwise, he just lets his gaze drift and lose focus, and his mind roam more or less free. It finds its way to its usual haunts soon enough.

 

_“It was all real. I am Sorrow. I always was. I love you, Thor.”_

 

Oh, Loki… Thor buries his face in his hands. No, he can’t possibly feel angry. He fucking should. Damn right he should. What Loki did… He set out to hurt him, and he fucking did, more than anyone else ever has. But Thor can’t stay mad. Not anymore. Not like this. The little shit _didn’t actually fucking mean it._

 

_“I love you, Thor.”_

 

 

“Have you eaten?” Mom’s voice startles Thor right out of his thoughts.

“Uh, yeah, had a sandwich.”

Mom frowns, disapproving.

“Sandwich for lunch _and_ for dinner?”

“I’m not very hungry today. Too hot,” says Thor.

She sighs. But something has changed in her too. She hasn’t given Thor a mean look in days. Almost like nothing ever happened. It’s strange.

“Dad is going to cook up some steaks,” she says. “Shall I tell him to make one for you?”

“Actually, yeah, that would be nice,” says Thor. Because it’s hot, and he’s not very hungry, but a steak is a steak.

“Alright. Will you please make the salad while I go change?” she asks.

“In a minute.”

She even comes to him and kisses his head. Ain’t that nice.

“Gotta look after those muscles, don’t we?” she says, playful. “Keep the neighborhood happy when you mow the front lawn shirtless.”

“Moooom!” groans Thor, flustering.

“What?” she snickers. “Dad would hate it if there was a slowing down in the constant influx of home-baked pies from all the people in town who hope for a closer peek of the hot stud in the house.”

He facepalms, hiding a very red face. He can still feel her eyes on him, so warm.

“My handsome baby,” she mutters, and kisses his head again. The she gets all businesslike. “Come on, the salad. The steaks will be done in five minutes. Don’t keep dad waiting.”

 

***

 

“Alright, son?” asks his dad, with only an extremely old-fashioned white cotton tank under the “Kiss the cook” apron. It’s hot in the kitchen. “Salad duty?”

“Yeah.”

The phone rings.

“Shall I get it?” asks Thor.

“Your mom will. It must be Loki.”

 

Indeed, it is. She must be sitting at the bottom of the stairs. They can hear her voice, but the sizzling of the pan and the kitchen door get in the way of making out the words. She giggles like a schoolgirl. Dad shakes his head, with a fond grin.

“I swear sometimes it feels like I have two teenage girls in the house.”

“I don’t think that’s a politically correct thing to say,” mumbles Thor, attempting a joke

“Don’t tell your mother, then,” says his dad, with a wink.

The steaks sizzle, the scent making Thor’s mouth water. He busies himself ripping the lettuce leaves down to bite size, chops tomatoes, cheese, considers the pickles. What else now, let’s see…

Then he sets up the table, catching intriguing bits of conversation as he comes and goes in and out of the kitchen.

“But you’re okay with that, aren’t you? … Yes, I should think so. … Oh, did he now? Sneaky! … Absolutely not, who do you take me for?”

 

“We’d better sit down and get started,” says his dad, with one steaming plate of food in each hand.

“Okay, sweetheart,” says mum, when she spots them already sitting down for dinner. “Give my love to Tony. You can kiss him and say it was from me.” And she laughs and shakes her head at something Loki says. “Bye honey. I love you very much. I miss you. … I’ll tell them. You too.”

“Everything alright over there?” asks dad.

“ _Very_ alright.” She winks. “He sends his love.”

That suggestive emphasis doesn't sit well with Thor, and really has to try to keep his expression from showing it.

His parents get chatting about the latest reorganization at work. Dad is retired now, but they used to work in the same hospital. It’s where they met and fell in love and everything. He keeps up with current events through her. You can hear the old chief clinical officer in his stern, commanding dismissal of the current manager.

When the subject returns to Loki, Thor’s ears automatically prick up.

“It was the best decision,” judges his father. “You could see him suffocating in this town. He needs a place where he can be himself in peace. He needs to be around people who understand him and like him for what he is.”

“I agree," says mom. "Even if it’s only for a while, he can see there is life beyond this town and, well, I suppose that’s a relief.  _And_ it sounds like they’re having a _lot_ of fun,” she grins wickedly.

Thor grimaces.

“Ooookay,” says Odin, holding his hands up. “No details, please.”

Frigga shakes her head at her husband. Thankfully, dad’s reaction drew her attention away from her son.

“What?” says dad.

“You had no problems with Thor getting to _that age._ ”

“I still didn’t want to hear the details!” Odin chuckles. “And Loki’s always been more like my baby daughter.”

She feigns shock.

“Odin Borson, don’t let Loki _ever_ hear you say that.”

“No problem,” he chuckles, still holding his hands up in full surrender. “But he is though,” he mumbles, only pretending he doesn’t want to be heard. “And yours too.”

She shakes her head severely, but doesn’t protest.

Thor wolves down his food without talking, but he doesn’t miss a single word.

 

 

After they’ve finished eating and tidying up, Thor relocates to the porch swing at the back of the house with an apple. He likes it here. He can hear crickets, and an owl or something. The woods are nearby―just a little copse of oaks and beeches, and the suburbs all around. They used to play a lot there with Sif and the boys when they were kids. And Loki, sometimes, after he recovered. Dad insisted. He said that he needed fresh air and other kids around.

But Thor didn’t like his little brother tagging along. It meant a thorough briefing before, and an even more thorough debriefing after, with many severe remarks about his big brotherly failings and derelictions of duty should Loki return with so much as a scrape on his knee. Yeah, mom hated it when Loki joined them, and so did Thor.

And while at first Loki was as excited as can be to go with his big brother and his mates, his mind was changed soon enough; he’d find Thor glowering at him resentfully, and nobody would slow down for him or pay him much attention when they played. Soon Loki started to hate the woods, the fresh air, and being kicked out of the house by Odin. He made his feelings crystal clear, earning some verbal ear-pullings for his tantrums, but their dad was stubborn, insisting on the wholesomeness of the exercise and how much Loki would benefit from it. Especially his temper, which could use a bit of humility and a lesson or two on who called the shots in that house (Hint: not Loki.)

And so the two brothers and Thor’s friends would take their bicycles to the woods, but once they got there, they parted ways; Thor would give him very serious and grave instructions, warning him that if he got in any trouble he would fucking kill him, and then he went away with Sif and the boys to the creek, or to the forts they’d been building, or wherever they fancied that day, and had fun. And Loki… what did Loki do? He usually brought a book or two along, so Thor assumed he burrowed somewhere to read. He didn’t ask what he’d been up to. He didn’t really mind, as long as he kept out of trouble.

He’s imagining him now, a scrawny ten-year-old with sunken cheeks and dark circles under his eyes (Loki’s appetite and sleep didn’t go back to normal in a hurry), and that fine, thin hair growing in patches, which mom kept cropped short “to make it grow strong,” a peachy fuzz Loki usually covered in a baseball cap; he’s imagining that lonely, pathetic figure alone for hours, nobody to talk to, nobody to play with, feeling that nobody wanted him around.

And Thor rubs his face hard and there’s no amount of swallowing that can make that acrid taste of guilt and self-loathing go away. _How could you, you selfish, heartless bastard?_

Frigga pops her head out the screen door.

“May I? Or did you want to be alone?”

Thor shrugs. He could do without diving into these subjects with his mom right now, but he’s not about to tell her to go away. They’ve had a nice night. He doesn’t want to spoil it.

She sits next to him on the swing and they rock slowly. The crickets do their thing.

“How are you doing?” asks his mom. The question is not a throwaway―it’s heavy with meaning. So his answer can't be a throwaway either, even if he tried.

He sighs, taken by surprise when he chokes up.

“I don’t know.” Sigh. “I don’t know.”

She gently strokes the back of his hand. Thor smiles a little bit.

“I’ve been so harsh to you,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

Thor doesn’t want to cry, but he’s close. Frigga puts his arms around him and Thor makes himself small to fit, melting into it. He has no idea where this is coming from, but he’d been needing it more than he let himself know. She strokes his hair and his back and she smells of lemon and lavender, a scent Thor has grown up with and associates with everything good, warm, and safe. For a second, he’s a little boy again, _her_ little boy. 

When she lets him go, they both stare quietly into the night for a bit, the atmosphere awkward after such an intense moment.

“So Loki’s doing well?” he asks.

“Yes, so it seems,” she says, smiling warmly, delighted that he's showing interest.

Another strange, loaded silence.

“What’s eating you?” she asks.

Oh, man. He’d forgotten his mom can read auras or some shit. She _always_ knows when there’s more.

“I don’t know what you…" It's pointless, isn't it? "I guess I… I mean, aren’t you and dad… concerned?”

“About what?”

“About Loki! I mean, the two of them alone in that house, together? _Alone?_ ”

She smiles.

“Mr. Jarvis supervises them, and he says they’re behaving exemplarily. And just the other day, Mrs. Stark was telling me what a great influence Loki is on Tony. She said she’s never seen him more… Well, I suppose the word she didn’t want to use was ‘tame’, but that’s what it came down to. Apparently, everybody finds them quite adorable at Stark Tower.”

“Yeah, well. That’s great for Tony, but what about Loki?” argues Thor.

“He seems… he sounds good to me,” says Frigga. “He sounds great, actually.”

Thor’s frown speaks for itself.

“And like I say, if they were up to naughtiness, Mr. Jarvis would know,” insists mom. “Tony knows he’s on probation. He’s behaving.”

“I’m not talking about… Tony getting Loki into the party lifestyle,” says Thor. “I’m talking about…” Huff. (Shit. Whose fucking idea was it, bringing up this subject.) He tries to pick his next words carefully. “What would concern me, if I was his parent…” (Which I’m not, I’m just his older brother whom he believes he has a demented incestuous passion for, good _god.)_ “I mean, Loki struggles with… His thoughts about, you know, relationships, uh, sex, it’s… it’s complicated. It troubles him. He… He doesn’t feel… Normal. Like other people. Shit, how do I…” He rubs his face, painfully frustrated, and mentally exhausted right now from struggling to keep away from the entire world of trouble which only one single wrong word could unleash upon this family.

His mother seems enthralled and puzzled. The shit fest in Thor’s head must be dancing all over his face.

“What do you mean?” she asks. “Is it about him being… About, well, being gay?”

Thor rubs his face with both hands.

“No, it’s not that.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

(Yeah, well, join the club. I’m thinking of printing cards.)

He tries. He won’t be faulted for not trying this time.

“It’s more about… I mean, he… He is not… Dammit.”

She laughs softly and gently pinches the scruff of his neck.

“I know there is nothing I can say to make you feel less uncomfortable right now, but if I promise I won’t be shocked, no matter what you tell me, will that help you?”

He sighs deeply, a darker feeling creeping in now. _Oh mom, you’re so fucking clueless._ But why should she suspect, how could she ever look at her boys and begin to imagine…

Deep breath. _Spit it out. End this._

“It’s complicated,” he says. “How Loki feels. About sex.”

“How do you know?” asks Frigga.

“Because he’s told me,” he says, blessing the darkness which hopefully is concealing the festival of pinks in his face right now.

“He has?” She’s surprised. “He talks to _you_ about these things?”

Thor rubs his forehead; there’ll be a red groove there tomorrow morning if he keeps at it.

“Sometimes.” (Finish this, Odinson. Get it over and done with, before she can think of follow-up questions.) “Anyway, I’d be more concerned Loki would… That he’d push himself into something he’s not ready for, to… force a change or, or to prove something. To himself.”

Ugh. The pickles in the goddamn salad were a _terrible_ idea.

Silence. An excruciating, loaded, buzzing silence. _Help._

“Do you know anything about Tony that we should hear about?” she asks.

“I know what he’s told me. About his, you know, his past.” Let it not be said he cannot do tact.

“We know about that,” she says. “According to his parents and Mr. Jarvis, it’s not a problem anymore. But you’ve spent time with him, what with the project and all. Is there anything that makes you think he would… not be good for you brother?”

(Oh god, the fucking wording gave Thor mental pictures. Fucking _great_.)

“I guess not,” he says, though the outrageous things Tony confided in him are queueing up to spin the tumbler dryer in his stomach.

In any case, it’s not about that. Thor doesn’t fear Tony will invite five or six of his old college mates for a repeat performance, this time featuring his kid brother as well. _(Ooookay,_ new _mental pictures. Fucking hell, somebody please knock me out with a baseball bat now.)_

“I don’t know anything… specific,” he says. “I just know Tony’s vastly more, uh, experienced than Loki is, and this might be… I mean, Tony doesn’t have problems in, in that area. More like, uh, the opposite. I don’t know how patient or-or understanding he would be with Loki’s… You know. Reservations or… But, like I say, Tony is not the problem. It’s Loki who…” _(Shit, not now, please fuck off, intrusive thoughts and fucking memories.)_ “I-I don’t know.”

More silence.

“It’s good to know you care,” says his mom.

“Of course I care,” protests Thor, with a force that surprises even him. “He’s my kid brother.”

Hearing this puts so much emotion on her face Thor has to look away.

“If it helps, I think Loki couldn’t do much better than Tony,” says his mom.

“Why is that,” he asks, still looking away, suddenly annoyed. (Which he doesn’t really understand. What has Tony ever done to him?)

“Well, whenever I’ve talked to Tony, and from what his parents and Mr. Jarvis tell me, I get the impression that he’s a very sweet and sensitive person,” she says.

“Sensitive. Stark. Really,” deadpans Thor.

She chuckles softly.

“And I believe he truly cares about your brother,” she insists.

Thor looks away, sullen.

“Don’t you agree?” she challenges him.

“I don’t know.” Thor crosses his arms. “That’s not a side of Tony I got to see. All I know is…” _Huff_. “Handling Loki in that area is… I mean, sweet and sensitive are great, but Tony is only sixteen. Like I say, this whole subject makes Loki very… It troubles him. He needs someone mature, someone who…” He cuts himself off and gulps. (Aaaaand we’re stopping right here, right now, thank you very much. This entire fucking conversation is completely fucking _wrong_ , and it just keeps getting wrong-er.)

He’s getting a solid headache, to add to the burn in his stomach. He senses his mother’s stare on him, trying to work out the meanings between his stutters and silences. As if she could see into his actual thoughts, Thor tries to fill his head with something other than… (Jesus Christ. And to _think_ he believed he had already experienced the full dimension of the thing, faced the worst of it, and learned to handle it. But hey, will you look at this! Ye ole intrusive thoughts, only now also with his mother just _there_ trying to read his mind! That’s a whole other world of _ugh_ he hadn’t yet faced. Such fun!)

“Well, I’ll… bring it up next time he calls,” says mom after a few excruciating moments. “I’ll try to find out more about how he’s feeling and what-what…” She chuckles, and possibly flushes. “You know what I mean, what he’s actually _doing_.”

Thor scrunches his nose and rubs his eyes painfully.

“Yeah, well, whatever he says, _don’t_ keep me updated, please,” he says. Which she finds amusing. “And don’t tell him I said anything,” he adds quickly.

“I won’t.” She still sounds amused. And then she sounds graver. “I like that Loki felt he could come to you about these things. I mean, sex and relationships.”

Thor keeps a long, thoughtful silence. _Careful now._

The worst of it is, he doesn’t only feel like this is all terribly fucking wrong. He’s also thinking this is terribly fucking _sad._ Because, no, Loki did _not_ feel he could come to his big brother with these things. He had to put a mask on and pretend to be a fictional _girl_. And would Thor have sat down with him to hear him out before Sorrow? Would he?

“He needed someone to talk to, I guess,” he mutters.

“I’m sure whatever you said to him helped him a lot. Especially because it came from you. Just having you listening to him must have helped him so much.” She presses her lips firmly on his hair for a kiss. “He adores you, you know.”

_(“I love you, Thor.”)_

Thor just nods, and he struggles to swallow down the burn.

“So thank you,” she says. “For being a good brother.”

Thor straightens up and puts some distance between them, stiff now.

“Yeah. Well. You know,” is all he says.

 _Mom, I’m a fucking shit brother. I’m a fucking shame and a total disgrace, and I’ve let you down in ways you can’t even imagine,_ is what he’s thinking. Shit, he’s let Loki down too, so, so badly.

He thinks it would help to let that out. Letting her believe that little story she’s put together in her head, of cozy sit-downs, frank conversations, and brotherly love, puts an acrid taste in his mouth, like he’d just puked.

But he doesn’t get to share the truth with her. What good would it do? Just imagine for one moment how would she _feel_. First of all, the fucking shock, the disgust, the horror. But right after that… Thor is not the most intuitive person in the world, but he’s already noticed how Frigga always manages to transform her sons’ fuck ups into personal failures. Does she realize she does it? Maybe she’s not even aware of other possible ways to process these things. It’s strange how empathy works. And it’s scary, how much damage it can do. Or is it a universal mom thing?

So no, he doesn’t share his feelings with her. He doesn’t tell her the truth. They _did_ have brotherly sit downs after all, eventually. He _did_ try to help his brother with his problems at one point. We’ll leave it at that.

“I might be mistaken, but I feel like you’re not as upset as you had been,” she says softly, on her tiptoes, as if treading too hard might endanger Thor’s progress into forgiveness and reconciliation.

“I’m not as upset as I was,” agrees Thor after a while, in a murmur.

She squeezes her arm around his shoulders.

“I’m so glad to hear that,” she murmurs back, restraining her emotion for his sake, but very poorly.

Thor nods to acknowledge her words.

“I don’t want to push,” she adds, softly softly, “god knows I’ve pushed too much already, but… You know who else would be very glad and relieved to hear that?”

He sighs.

Silence.

“I’m not ready to… I can’t talk to him yet,” he murmurs.

“I understand,” she says, still so gentle, so understanding.

“You… _you_ can tell him. Next time you speak to him. You can tell him I…” (What. What the fuck do you want her to tell him. _What.)_ Just tell him I’m not so mad anymore.”

She nods eagerly, bright eyed.

“I will.”

The moment lingers. She mercifully cuts it short, nudging his side.

“But if you struggle to speak to him, you could always write him a postcard.”

He dutifully forces a chuckle, which comes out weak and lackluster.

She squeezes his arm again.

“Anyway, you wanted to be alone?”

“Going to bed soon,” he says. “I got a class at the pool first thing tomorrow.”

His mother kisses him tenderly, full of love and good feelings. At least someone is.

“Good night then,” she says.

He kisses her back, and he might be a fucking mess inside, but it feels good to make her feel better. It feels good that she’s not angry at him anymore. It feels good that she thinks he’s a good brother. It feels good, in spite of the guilty thoughts and the lies, and he doesn’t get to feel good that often these days, so he’ll take it for this one moment, whether he deserves it or not.

 

***

  

Once upon a time, Thor was the kind of person who went down like timber the very moment his head hit the pillow. It was lights out, and _poof_ , gone. Dreamland. He had never thought much about it. He had taken it for granted. What a jerk. Those were the days, and today is a whole different story.

These days, no matter how physically exhausted he is, and in spite of dad’s herbal tea and the melatonin drops, it takes him a good hour or more to finally go under. That’s a helluva lot of time to toss and turn things in his mind. Definitely too much time, considering the things his mind likes to toss and turn about since shit went down.

The thing is, it’s like when there’s a song stuck in your head and you only remember a part of it, and it goes on and on in your mind, just that bit you do remember; you know that if only you could remember the rest, you’d be free and the song would leave you alone, but try as you might, you just fucking _can’t_.

Well, it’s kind of the problem he has with those fucking online chats. You see, sentences and brief exchanges between Storm and Sorrow keep jumping out at him all the time, constantly, a hundred times a day. A word or a sight or nothing specific at all will trigger them, and his mind latches onto them. So many scraps of conversation that keep surfacing and vanishing again, out of context, loose sentences that have stuck with him and won’t leave him alone. He wants them out of his head, but they’re trapped. It's like they’re trying to _say_ something. Sometimes two seemingly unrelated things unexpectedly superimpose and blend into each other, and it feels like a glimpse or a revelation, but the meaning remains just one inch beyond Thor’s reach. He knows there’s stuff in there that he _needs_ to process this whole thing. He knows there are answers there. He just can’t quite get to them. He's missing essential stuff. The stuff he managed to forget.

He used to read their conversations over all the time in class to remember her, to feel her close until it was the evening and they could talk again for real. When it was over, he re-read them to rub the sweetest salt on the sweetest wound. He missed her so much. He couldn’t let go. And he would read the sexy bits over and over, trying to relive some of the excitement, and… Basically Thor’s jerked off a lot to her photos and her words, which he tries to put out of his mind because… Jesus Almighty Christ.

When all the shit went down, he deleted the app—banished it, exorcized it—but that didn’t make the words and the images go away. Oh no, they were all still there, alright, in quite a lot of horrific, gross detail. Especially the parts he really, really didn’t want to think about—those seemed to be flashing before his eyes in neon. Boozing had been like sticking a pair of imaginary fingers in his ears and internally going “la la la la la can’t hear you.” But it hadn’t done much for him, not for long anyway, except leave a god-awful mess in his head. He didn't quite really manage to forget, only to blur and confuse his memories. And now they are just noise. Thor had thought for a while that he was thankful for that.

But now he finds himself restless. The primal horror of the sex chats has abated, and it’s the other type of conversations that keeps nipping at his heels. The things that were revealed, the things they confessed to each other. _He was speaking to Loki all that time_ \- it was important stuff; he remembers it only vaguely. He’s forgotten so much of it, and he has questions. He has lots and lots of questions.  

He knows where the answers are—in those fucking chats, in that fucking app he deleted as if doing that could ever undo all the things that had happened.

For a few days now, Thor hasn’t been avoiding the memories anymore. He’s trying to bring them up and see them clearly. But it’s like looking into a pond that reflects the sun, and sometimes the surface breaks and the reflection alters, and you can glimpse under the water only for a moment before the surface of the water turns again into a golden mirror that leaves you dazzled, blind, and makes you see sparkles when you shut your eyes. You cling on to that brief glimpse you managed to catch, and you know it means something, and you know there’s so much more, but the sun is in your eyes and you simply can’t see it long enough to make sense of it.

Tonight, the interrogation signs in his head are louder than ever. And he just says _fuck it_ and installs the dating app again.

The very sight of the little green icon stirs his stomach.

 

_Log in as Storm99_

 

His finger hovers over the screen, hesitant.

What is he so afraid of? What can possibly happen if he looks? Hasn’t he been through hell and back already over this? All he’s gonna get from it, hopefully, is some clarity. Right? Right.

He taps the button on the screen.

 

_You are now logged in as Storm99_

 

And at the top of all those avatars from other girls Storm had talked to at some point, there’s hers.

It’s not the pretty brunette whose face Thor got to feel so fond of (who the hell was she anyway?); Sorrow (Loki) changed her avatar to a cropped detail of one of those lingerie pics. It’s a bare shoulder brushed by a light curtain of raven black hair, too small really to be revealing, unless you know what it is. But Thor _knows_ what it is, he’s seen the whole thing. And he can fucking _see_ it right now, as if he had it in front of his eyes. There’s the shoulder and then the back, gracefully straight, white and smooth, and it goes all the way down to (Jesus Christ) his _kid brother’s_ fucking ass in a skimpy black thong — _God._ Intrusive thoughts. The _things_ Thor has thought to himself about that back and that ass and that fucking thong. The things Thor has _imagined_ ,  things he has _pictured himself doing_ to… Fuck, stop it right _now._ (Goddammit, he never has time to dodge those fucking thoughts before they’re fucking _on him,_ taking him away on the rollercoaster ride from hell _. Shit.)_

…And already this is feeling pretty fucking weird and unsettling. And perhaps he is not ready after all and he should stop right now.

A question: Is it really Loki in those pics? He might not be. Maybe he isn’t. He nicked the pic of the pretty brunette, right? So maybe he stole the nudes too (Thor’s hoping so bad right now). Otherwise… Fuck. Loki, _his kid brother,_ putting on sexy lingerie, and posing. _Posing for Thor._ Taking photos of himself to fucking _turn his big brother on_. Good god, Loki. What the actual fuck?

Thor puts down the phone face down, his belly churning. Is he going to puke? He might puke. It’s in his throat. He gulps and he gulps and he swallows it down. Down. _Down._

Come the fuck on, dude. It’s been fucking _months_. Pull your fucking self together. (If he refuses to be so affected, maybe he’ll manage to convince himself that it wasn’t such a big deal after all.) (Yeah, right. Sure he will.)

Deep breaths now. Deep breaths. He rubs his face. Inhale, exhale.

So you want answers? Here they fucking are. Grow a pair. These are just… words. They’re just words. It wasn’t real. Nothing ever really happened. It was all in your fucking _heads_. _It wasn’t real._ Right? -Right.

He grabs the phone again. He taps on the thumbnail and the chat window fills up his screen.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: im sorry Thor_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: im so sorry about everything_

_Storm99: maggie please_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i hate doing this more than u’ll ever know_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i love you Thor_

_Storm99: maggie_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: good bye_

 

His throat closes. And then it’s like a fucking elephant just sat on his chest. He remembers too fucking clearly and presently how it fucking felt to read that.

_He misses her so much._

Good news? He’s not gonna puke now. Bad news? He might fucking cry. _Still_. After all this time. He’s not fucking over it. Over _her._ Someone who never fucking existed in the first place, and still Thor feels like she died on him.

He scrolls back. Scrolls and scrolls and scrolls. Three fucking months, talking for hours at a time. The pictures, mercifully, appear blurred because to the phone right now, it’s like they were never downloaded. Thank god for small mercies.

And several minutes later, here we are. Their very first chat.

 

_Storm99: looking for me princess?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: hey stud_

_Storm99: lol_

 

Thor’s smiling now. Can’t help it. She was so fucking clumsy, oh my god. The memories.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: that really u in the pic?_

_Storm99: lol yes_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: u’r very hot_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: want 2 get off?_

 

He smiles beatifically for another moment, all the tenderness he felt for her still there. And what a surprise, he’s also shaking his head at his silly little brother and his stupid plan, and how very obvious and heavy-handed it appears now. The little shit must have thought he was being smooth, oh my god.

 

_Storm99: no rush princess take it easy_

_Storm99: we could talk_

_Storm99: i’d like to know more about u_

 

And then his smile goes sour. It’s the bitter, awful realization that this could have been a matter of a single afternoon. One single afternoon, one naughty chat, a screenshot or two, an anonymous email to Jane, Thor getting his ass kicked, and ta-da, job done. That was Loki’s plan. Quick and easy. Almost clean, by comparison, and aseptic, considering the amount of infectious, poisoned shit they’re both currently wading in.

Then again, if Loki thought for one fucking second Thor wouldn’t have sussed out who was behind it, he underestimates Thor’s brain, and he also shows considerable harebrainedness himself. And Thor would have retaliated, you better believe that. It would have been all-out war, no prisoners, because he distinctly remembers how annoyed, how fed-up, how full of rage and indignation he was feeling about his brother the afternoon he found Loki poking his aristocratic nose in his big brother’s private personal business. And how fucking _dare_ Loki threaten him and fucking blackmail him!

_What have I ever done to you that you hate me so much?_

Oooh, fuck.

The things he had said to Loki that day. Everything he knew about Loki’s sore spots, he had used it. He had sharpened it, and he had thrown it at him, no mercy, no hesitation. He had hated his little brother’s guts with a fucking blind passion that afternoon.

And Loki had wanted to get even, that’s all. And in fucking fairness, Thor can’t blame him for it. They had been at war. Thor had his weapons, and Loki had his, and they used them not to wound, but to kill. It’s just how it was back then.

Now, if only Thor had just gone along with it that first evening. If only he’d just… done the e-nasty straight away like that pushy Sorrow girl wanted, instead of trying to be... Yeah, it’s not like that would have done his and Loki’s relationship any good, from there on hostilities would have escalated, and there would have always been a very distraught, very concerned, very disappointed mother and father as collateral, but that's all it would have been, right? Nothing more and nothing less than another skirmish in their long war of attrition. Not this awful, sick, barely comprehensible mess, both of them way in above their heads. It would have been preferable, right? Not that it makes any fucking difference now what Thor would have preferred.

He keeps scrolling down.

 

_Storm99: isn’t there a kid ur age u like?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: told u. they’re dicks_

_Storm99: lol u may be right_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i’m shy_

_Storm99: u don’t seem shy to me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: IRL_

_Storm99: i see_

_Storm99: so u don’t hang out much_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: try never_

 

This is very fucking weird, because that’s Sorry, alright, but is also 100% Loki. He didn’t try to conceal himself _at all._ It was always right there, hidden in plain sight. Because Thor would never contemplate the scenario in which Loki would do something like that, right? That’s what Loki must have been counting on. And sure enough, Thor had not had a clue. Never once imagined, never once suspected… (Because it was unthinkable? Or because he wanted Sorrow to be real so badly?)

Now that he’s started reading, he can’t stop. And guess what, he’s feeling nostalgic, in spite of it all. Not horrified, not dejected, not ashamed. He remembers how it felt, how it’s felt every time he’s read these sweet innocent beginnings before, grinning like an idiot, reliving the unexpected magic of chancing upon this particular girl, and where it had led them, how much he had come to feel, the rollercoaster it had been, how he had believed with all his heart that he had fucking met The One.

But there’s something else.

 

_Storm99: u were sick both times?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: yup_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: see why i have a problem?_

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: so i thought i was doing ok_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: but then he groped me u know_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and then i just_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i felt like i couldn’t breathe_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i was all_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i had to run_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i was sick_

_One_for_Sorrow5654:_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it was pretty horrible_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i was so embarrassed_

 

Thor sort of remembers now Loki mentioning a couple of times in his first year that he was going to a party. He had covered up for him with mom and dad, told them he’d be there, that they would be tame and he’d have Loki’s back. It had not gone quite like that. But when Thor had asked the next day, with Loki looking green and gloomy and sickly from what Thor had assumed was a garden variety hangover from booze, and from a teenage boy’s first forays into the great big world of sexy shenanigans, he’d simply congratulated Loki for it, and didn’t give it a second thought.

He could have done something different. "Hey, how did it go last night? Are you alright?" Would it had been that hard? Nah, he didn't even ask. Never gave Loki any chance. 

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it was pretty horrible_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i was so embarrassed_

 

Thor puts down his phone and sighs. He sighs, he rubs his temples.

Loki, the Loki he knows, the one he’d come to know and live with anyway, would rather _die_ than own up to something like this anywhere within his big brother’s hearing range. So maybe it wouldn't have made any difference whether he had asked Loki or not how he was feeling after those fucking parties. But that didn't come from nowhere, did it? Loki didn't just suddenly become a secret walled-in imperial city one morning for no reason. He had build his walls, alright, brick by fucking brick, but it had taken years. 

Loki _did_ talk to him about pretty much everything, once. When something was bugging him, when something was upsetting him, he’d come to Thor. And Thor… he would try his very best to make him feel better. And he loved his little brother so much in those times, _so much_. How good it was to be needed, how good it was to be looked at with those big green eyes full of adoration and trust, like Thor could do no wrong, like there was nothing he wasn’t able to put right. He had _loved_ having a kid brother in those times. And then, somehow, it had ended.

With Storm, Sorrow had let it all out so readily. Thor never questioned how frank and candid she was that first day, how quickly she’d opened up to a total stranger, or why Thor himself had found it so natural and easy to respond. Now he knows why. It’s because they used to do this all the time. They were back at Aunt Ida’s farm again, talking in whispers under the sheets, conspiring and confessing and trusting each other fully and totally, because how could they not, when they knew the worst about each other already, when they knew everything there was to know.

So on that first evening, Sorrow-Loki’s walls had not so much come down as fucking obliterated themselves into a cloud of dust. He was feeling like a freak and a weirdo, like he was broken, and he had nobody to fucking talk to. He must have felt so, so lonely. And now, suddenly, unexpectedly, his big brother was listening again. And he was being kind, attentive, and caring. Of course Loki’s anxieties and fears had come pouring out in all directions. He had been desperate, about to burst.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i want to stop feeling so wrong_

 

“The plan” had not fallen through after two weeks -It went to hell that very first evening. Didn't it, Loki? Because his brother had needed a hand to hold like the air he breathed, and Thor had felt that lonely soul reaching out to him and he had felt that before and he missed it, and he wanted it too, and he had offered a hand. No questions asked, no ulterior motives. He had totally discarded having sex with this girl by then—too young, too vulnerable. All he wanted was to be a friend to her, because she clearly needed it, and because it felt good to do that, to be that for someone, and Thor hadn't had it in such a long, long time.

Goddammit, Loki. Your real-life, actual brother had been just behind the wall all the time. Why had he never come knocking on Thor's door?

 

_Storm99: have u tried telling her any of this?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: she wouldn’t listen_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: she’d laugh at me_

_Storm99: i’m sure she wouldn’t_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and i’m sure she would_

 

Oh, smurf…

You know the worst of it? That in his way, Loki was probably right. No, Thor would not have mocked-mocked him, as in _hah hah what a nerd,_  but with Loki being so touchy and sensitive, and this subject putting him on the defensive, and expecting to be laughed at, ready to be scorned, it wouldn’t have taken much at all to make him clam up and run away if he had actually attempted to share his experiences and his fears with Thor.

Put in a different way, it would have taken exquisite tact and a very deft hand and lots and lots of intuition and emotional intelligence to offer a shoulder that Loki would actually trust enough to dare cry on. 

And remember how it had been back then between them? Thor would bristle just feeling him getting near. Loki was so fucking _unpleasant_ all the time, grumpy and snarky and nasty. If you said “good morning,” he’d roll his eyes at you. If you asked what he had lined up for the day, he’d say something like “as if you care”. He was a fucking asshole. The very sight of him in the mornings got on Thor’s nerves.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: what happened with ur little bro?_

_Storm99: idk_

_Storm99: he’s shut himself up in his own world more and more_

_Storm99: he’s always in a bad mood_

_Storm99: i don’t get him_

_Storm99: i used to but now_

_Storm99: i have no idea what he’s thinking ever_

_Storm99: seems like i can’t do anything right with him_

_Storm99: it’s like he hates me_

 

He had never really, seriously wondered why Loki was being such a shit. It seemed pretty simple and straightforward: teenagers are shits; his kid brother is a teenager, ergo, his brother is a shit. Just one of the moody asshole types. He’d grow out of it sooner or later, or not. Fuck him. Thor had better things to do with his day than bang his head on a goddamn wall.

So if Loki had knocked on his door and said something like “can I talk to you about something,” it is very, very doubtful Thor would have turned off his video game, looked at Loki with an attentive expression, and sat there quietly, giving Loki the time and the attitude his little brother would have needed to even begin to approach the problem.

Thor might have made light of it too. He might have told Loki, “meh, big fucking deal, you fucking lightweight, next time stick to ginger ales and tonic water,” or something just as _sweet_ and _caring_. Yeah, not Mr. Tactful, him. Certainly not back then, when the best days in their sibling relationship were those when they didn't really see each other or get any chance to interact. 

 

_Storm99: well i don’t know how 2 help him_

_Storm99: honestly what can i do_

_Storm99: he doesn’t talk to me except to snarl at me and_

_Storm99: i mean i’m no saint_

_Storm99: but even when i try to be nicer it doesn’t really change anything_

_Storm99: and he’s always kept to himself and he’s always been hard to figure out but now_

_Storm99: now it’s like_

_Storm99: like i don’t even know who he is anymore_

 

_Storm99: and he pisses me off so much_

_Storm99: when i feel he resents me_

_Storm99: that he resents that i’m doing well_

_Storm99: like he wants to see me suffer 2_

_Storm99: idk does he want me to be miserable so that we can b miserable together?_

 

Of course Loki never came to Thor with his problems. It might not be all down to Thor, true, but did it matter? All that matters is that Loki needed someone, that Thor should have been that someone, _used_ to be that someone, but he wasn’t. He isn’t.

How the hell did that happen? When did it all start to go to hell between them?

Must have been about the last time Thor can recall giving his brother a proper hug. Loki must have been twelve.

 

_Storm99: can’t remember last time we really talked_

_Storm99: or had fun together_

_Storm99: we used to be best friends_

_Storm99: i miss him_

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i miss my sis too_

 

Thor wipes the tears welling up, blurring his sight.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it’s like she wanted 2 leave me behind_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: like i embarrassed her or something_

_Storm99: i’m sure that’s not true_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: then why is she like this_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: she treats me like a leper_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: at school she ignores me_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: like she wants people 2 forget we’re related or something_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i wish i knew what the hell did i do 2 make her hate me_

 

Thor went to high school, found his place really easily, slotted into it like a well-oiled cog, and blossomed. Became a star of the football team, girls flung themselves at him, boys crowded around him and adored him. He was having the time of his life.

And then Loki got to high school. With that permanent scowl on his face, his grumpy monosyllabic answers, being a right jerk to mom, who tried so hard, and the fucking mood all the way to school. How Thor fucking hated the sight of him first thing in the morning. He couldn’t wait for the time to… Yeah, leave him behind, get on with his day, forget about that moody little shit.

True, Loki _was_ an absolute little shit, but _he was his kid brother._ And Thor was supposed to look after him. He was supposed to be there for him. If Loki was such an absolute asshole, Thor could have tried, tried properly, to at least understand _why_.

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: these assholes at school_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: left a used pad in my locker_

_Storm99: oh shit princess that’s awful_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’m used to it_

 

His brother was fucking terrified, simple as that. He was shitting his pants daily about going to that school, where he was completely fucking alone, no friends, no big brother to hold his hand like Thor had done all his life, where the dark looks had soon become nasty words and cruel pranks. And the only way Loki knew how to stand up for himself? Toughen up, shut it all up inside, and plod on.

 

_Storm99: did u tell anyone at school about what those assholes did?_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: no point_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: it’s not going to stop them_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: i’d rather just ignore them_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and count the days until i can get the hell out of this shithole town_

  

(Yeah, well, at least that. Thank you, Tony Stark.) 

But how fucking clueless can a big brother be. 

 

_Storm99: and he takes my protection but won’t help himself_

_Storm99: he doesn't try to make friends he makes trouble for himself_

_Storm99: i guess he’s jealous of me_

_Storm99: bc i’m kinda popular and he’s not_

_Storm99: i don’t get why_

_Storm99: i think he could be popular if he wanted_

 

Thor had needed it all spelled out for him. 

 

_One_for_Sorrow5654: maybe he’s found out that people he thought were his friends were making fun of him behind his back_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: or he's been pranked by people who made him believe they liked him_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: or it turns out they just used him to get closer to you_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and now he doesn’t trust anyone_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and maybe he just feels nobody wants to know him really_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: because whenever he opens up a bit he gets mocked_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and called a geek or a smart-ass or that he's up his own ass or_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: maybe he feels he has nothing in common with anyone his own age_

_One_for_Sorrow5654: and older people just see him as a pest trying too hard who should learn his place_

 

How many fucking years had Loki been fending for himself? And when he’d started to feel wrong inside, about sex or being gay or not feeling anything, or whatever, he’d found himself in a fucking desert. Because mom was attentive and caring and she wanted to listen, but sometimes a kid doesn’t want to talk about certain things with his mom.

So just imagine what it must have felt like to Loki, after so much loneliness and ugliness and things he’s been called and things he’s thought about himself, to have his big brother’s ear again, and getting _this_ from him.

 

_Storm99: like i said, there’s nothing wrong with u_

_Storm99: nothing_

_Storm99: ur 15_

_Storm99: u’ll probs hate me for saying this but u’r very young_

_Storm99: it’s ok if u haven’t figured anything out yet_

_Storm99: and if u try to force it, it’s normal that ur body reacts_

_Storm99: honestly nothing u’ve told me screams freakshow to me_

_Storm99: u just need to try with someone u can trust_

_Storm99: and u’r attracted to_

_Storm99: and then take it easy don’t force it_

_Storm99: there’s no rush_

  

 _Of course_ Thor is not angry anymore. _Of course_ he doesn’t hate his brother. He fucking _understands_. He gets how Loki got mixed up in all of this, how he got carried away, how he got sucked into it, how he could not bring himself to make it stop.

_“I needed them, Storm and Sorrow. They were all I had.”_

And so it was. Loki’s actual brother had been just next door all that time, but he might as well just live in Mars. What Thor wouldn’t give his kid brother (a shoulder to cry on, reassurance, trust, love), he gave spontaneously and readily to this girl on the internet he’d only just met. And Loki’s stupid plan could have been just another battle in the permanent war between them, but Thor just _had_ to make it personal, and what could have just been a silly, mean prank became a life-changing shit fest with pervasive, ongoing consequences, with no end in sight.

And this is where they are now.

If he’d been more of a brother to Loki, if they’d been on reasonable terms, if Thor had been a fucking grown up, risen above it, been more civil, if he had not been such an asshole to him, if he hadn’t said the things he’d said, Loki wouldn’t have wanted to put together a plan to fuck up Thor's life.

But what is more, if Thor had been more of a brother to him, if they’d been closer, as they should have been, as they used to be, Loki would not have felt so fucking lonely, and he would not have felt the need to latch on to a fiction he’d created and keep it going on and on until his fucking head got so messed up that he’d ended up believing that his feelings for _his_ _big brother_ are something they are not. Because that’s what this is, a completely insane _confusion_.

Thor puts away his phone, his sight hazy, his head throbbing.

He can’t change what’s happened, how things were between them, what it all lead to. But he must… he must fix this fucking mess. As hard and awkward and uncomfortable as it is, he needs to find a way to make this fucking better. Because when all is said and done, he’s as guilty in all this as Loki. They both created this perfect shitstorm together.

But even if they hadn’t, even if Thor was completely innocent, _Loki is his brother._ He won’t get another one in this life. They were good mates once, thick as thieves, and it was _good_. His baby brother is going through some really fucked up stuff, and _he needs his big brother with him._ Thor has to get over himself, and do something. He’s the only one who can help. If only he knew how.

Just then, the thought presents itself -  _there’s also Tony Stark._ And Thor should feel gratitude and relief because Loki is not completely alone after all. He _has_ someone who knows what’s happened, someone he can discuss this whole crazy thing with. _He_ doesn’t have to deal with it all by himself, like Thor does. And knowing Tony a little, he is so not the squeamish or judgmental type.

Yeah, Thor should feel very, very grateful for Tony Stark. So _sweet_ and _sensitive_. But instead all he can feel is a snarl building up in his throat. Because god only fucking _knows_ what they are up to, what Tony is doing to Loki _right_ _now._ What Loki is making himself _do_ to feel less like a freak, what Tony is happily letting Loki get himself into to “help him” (colossal air quotes.) _Shit_ , Thor should have _never_ let Loki go to New York in such a state. He should have said something. But what?

His own words to his mom earlier return to him, and this time he finishes the sentence.

_“He needs someone mature, someone who knows him well, someone he can trust.”_

In the dark, staring blindly at the ceiling, in a quiet house, Thor feels the full force of his own confusion, his own grief. The yearning, the guilt, the aching.

 _What Loki really needs is Storm._  And Thor, god help him, has never stopped needing Sorrow.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a marathon... we had A LOT to deal with didn't we.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last days with Tony in NY. Loki's going to miss him a lot. 
> 
> When Loki gets home Thor has already left for college, but he's left something for Loki waiting in his kid brother's room...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's harvest time in Vineyard Land where I live, a time of plenty and sweetness with ripe grapes bending the soft vines to the ground, purple figs so dark they look almost black hanging amid the luscious leaves, blackberries for the brave who dare challenge The Thorns (or the jackasses who go blackberrying in a tank top and shorts, wanna see the scars?), small, tough, sour green olives, and the almonds finally shedding their brown husk revealing the perfect nut inside, all finally ready to be plucked and picked and eaten.
> 
> I don't want to jinx it by saying it out loud, but it seems like it's a time of plenty and reaping for yours truly too: I have updates of ALL my other fics very close to beta stage. Autumn, yay!

 

_“Hey mom._

_Sorry about how I spoke to you earlier on the phone. I wasn’t expecting that third degree and I freaked out. I’m sorry I was not very nice to you. And it’s not true that it’s none of your business. If nothing else, I am a minor in your care. But of course I know you actually_ _care_ _and want the best for me so, that also._

_About Tony and me._

(Loki’s fingers hover on the keys. First of all, he has no idea how to explain. To his mom. _To his mom._ As in, he’s flushing red hot already, just thinking about the things he had been up to with Tony just before mom called and started with the freaky questions. Loki had to put on a t-shirt and shorts just to sit down at Tony’s computer to type this email. And he _had_ to write an email as a matter of urgency because he panicked at the simple thought of returning the phone call and having to do this out loud. And he needs to be fast, just in case mom decides to phone again, god forbid.  So, let’s see…)

_Tony and I. Yes, we are. But nothing too heavy. I am not ready, I know I’m not, and Tony respects that. He does make me feel comfortable and cared for and at no point has he pressured me into anything. He’s let me set the pace, and we are taking it slow and not going too far. We are being sensible._

(Let her make of this whatever she wants.)

_And yes, he does treat me very well and is very nice to me. Probably nicer than I am to him. You know what a little s*** I can be._

_As for me putting pressure on myself._

(Loki hesitates a long time.)

 _Yes I guess I do, in part._ _~~There are things that~~ _ (scratch this)

 _Regarding what Thor told you. It’s true sometimes I feel that not everything is totally normal with me in this department_ (ughhhh) _and it’s true that it concerns me. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and talking with Tony about it, and I’m not as worried as I was. Tony and Thor both say it’s not as uncommon or weird as I believed. Tony says I might be demi. Demisexual. Which means I only experience sexual attraction with people I feel a strong emotional connection with._

(That was harder than he anticipated. He better get ready for long heartfelt talks with his mom and maybe a fucking counselor when he gets back. *Fucking sigh.*)

_I’m not sure if that is what I am or what, and I guess I’m only sixteen and so I have a long way to go before I have to figure things out, but like I said I’m not as concerned about it as I used to be, and it’s not something that upsets me or that would make me do silly things to prove something to anyone. I have Tony to thank for that._

_So in short, nothing has happened between Tony and me that I didn’t fully and wholeheartedly consent to_ (sheesh the fucking teen counseling language is taking over.) _And I’m okay with him and we’re having fun and I’m enjoying things. But please don’t ask me any details because I’m about to fluster myself to death here._

(Loki rubs his face. He’s trying to remember what else was there. There was a fucking _lot,_ goddammit mom. …Oh, right, yeah.)

 _I’m not totally sure what I feel for Tony. I’m not in love with him I don’t think, but I trust him and like him and I feel good with him. He knows what I feel, or rather what I don’t feel for him, and he’s alright with that. He says_ ~~_he is satisfied_ ~~ (ugh no, the connotations. Out.) _he is alright with the way things are between us._

(He’s just had a flash of how very _alright_ Tony is with some of the things they do and goes pink to the tips of his ears, because his mom will definitely read between the lines.)

(Okay. That’s pretty much it, right? Oh wait, no. She also nagged him about what she always nags him about.)

_I guess Thor must be packing his bags as I write this._

(He stops here, unseeing, eyes turned to the inside.)

_I hope he is well. I am glad to know you two talked. I would hate to think you didn’t reconcile before he left for college because I know how much it would have made you both suffer. And I know it’s kind of ironic I’m saying this to you, considering the way things are between Thor and me, but I think our situation is different. Anyway, I’m sure we will work it out between us, when we’re ready._

(Oh, he’s happy he chose to do this in writing, because his mom would have heard perfectly well the blank hopelessness in his voice on the phone.)

 ~~ _I miss his face, mom._~~ (Sigh.)

 _I’m not sure what you meant by “he told me to tell you he’s not as angry anymore” but in any case it sounds like good news._ ~~_I’m not sure how much I believe it was only said to put you at ease but never mind that now._ ~~ _I didn’t want him to leave angry either. When things are not so raw, I’m sure we will be able to talk and sort things out.”_

 

Mom said one more thing. Something she's been saying at the end of every single call for every week Loki's been away. "Are you looking forwards to coming home, sweetie?"

"Looking forwards to...?"  _Are you fucking seriously asking me that, mother?_

Outside the window, there’s just bricks to see from where he’s sitting. A couple of floors down, the street is bustling with life. People selling things, people going places, people making things happen. 

He's going home at the end of this week. Home. Which looks to him like this fucking brick wall filling his view right now, days and days all the same piling up on fucking top of Loki's back, crushing his goddamn soul. 

He's leaving this dream realm he's inhabited for a few precious months and going home to mom and dad. No more dancing halls turned into indoor pools, no more experimental VR software to try, no more cool art exhibitions, off-Broadway shows, and world-class professionals listening to his opinions like they matter, no more weekends on a yacht. No more walking the streets with his head high and his mood light and Tony by his side, holding hands, teasing, with nothing to hide and nothing to fear and nobody sparing them a second look. Anonymous and free, unburdened, almost happy with his lot, as much as he can be.

And now it's back to reality, back to fucking Misery High, back to the life where Thor is gone and Storm is gone and Loki is nothing but the punching bag of a handful of pathetic classroom bullies. So so _so_  looking forwards to that, mom.

On the phone he has to work out a reply. In an email, he can pretend he forgot she asked, and this is what he does.

Okay, we finish this.

 

_“I hope you and dad are okay too. I am good. I’ll see you in a few days._

_Love you all_

_Loki.”_

 

* * *

 

He starts to re-read for typos and realizes he is tempted to start editing like crazy, or maybe even just delete it all, so he presses “send” before he can do either.

There, done.

Hopefully he will have put her mind at ease, and she will not call again to talk about things. Where the hell did all those questions come from all of a sudden? Mah, he'll think about that some other time.

But not now. Tony is waiting for him on that massive Russian emperor-size mattress. It’s so huge, they can both sleep in there and, unless they mean to, never once doth their respective fleshes meet. It works for them. Enough space for play, and enough space for Loki.

He finds Tony lying on his front, naked, chest resting on a pillow, his round, perky white butt poking up. He’s watching Loki with glazed eyes.

“You took forever,” he purrs.

“I couldn’t leave her thinking I had had a nervous breakdown or something,” says Loki.

Mom and real life and everything else is quickly melting from his mind, with Tony’s heated stare putting him in all sorts of moods.

Here’s a thing Loki's discovered about himself these past few days, as they were seeking things to do that they were both okay with: turns out, Loki luuuuurves being watched. And how’s that for lucky symmetries, Tony loves watching.

For the last few steps to the bed, Loki modulates his moves, sets them to sexy and suggestive; he swings his hips and takes long, slow, feline strides. He drops his pajama bottoms first, revealing the garter belt, fishnet stockings, and the lovely lacy panties he’d been wearing, tied at the sides with cute little bows. Not easy to pack everything in those to a fetching effect, but who the fuck cares. Then he loses the t-shirt, and his golden chain harness glints.

“Did you miss me?” he purrs.

“Fuck, did I ever,” sighs Tony.

He makes a pose that presents his back and butt to best advantage, holding his hair up for his neck to show.

“You’re killing me, Lo,” mutters Tony, starting to circle his hips, rubbing against the mattress.

“Not yet,” whispers Loki. And he starts pulling very slowly at the ties of his panties, undoing the bow. “But I’m about to.”

 

They've bought Loki some stuff online, on Tony’s card. Some lacy stuff, some strappy stuff, even some gorgeous actual leather and chain stuff. Loki has no idea where he’ll hide it all when he goes home, but whoa, just actually getting it excited him. Hell, just knowing it's there in a drawer turns him on. They bought him heels too, some body jewelry, a few other things. It was fun, browsing with Tony, feeling toyed with like he was a Barbie doll. _"Y_ _ou’ll look so hot in this.” “Oh god I can’t wait to see this on you.”_ And Loki would start panting just thinking about wearing it, and Tony seeing him in it.

They got some toys too, also on Tony’s tab.

And so they’ve got this thing going where nobody touches anyone but themselves, not even to make out, not even when still dressed, but otherwise? They’ve been having an extremely active and mutually satisfying sexual relationship. Like being in a long-distance thing, only the distance is just the other side of the bed. Loki keeps catching Tony humming around the house, _“A fiiiine romaaance with noooo kissiiiing…”_ and whistling and dancing too, which he’ll take as a sign that he's... happy? So let's assume this is working out for Tony too.

And so Loki sprawls on the bed on his back and fucks himself on one of the dildos Tony got for him, while Tony watches and drools. Loki tortures himself and drags it out and doesn’t give it to himself exactly the right way. He gets frustrated and whines and groans and sobs, and throws a look at Tony and fuck, his eyes are glassy and tough, and Loki feels like a doll, a toy, a _thing,_ a fucking porn bot for anonymous guys to jerk off to. Yeah, he fantasizes about that, about those old-fashioned peep shows he saw in a film once, with a stage in the middle of a room and a ring of curtained cabins surrounding it, and that girl on the stage who is nothing, who is no-one to those guys in the booths, just a writhing, moaning body for them to ogle at and jerk off to. He _is_ that girl, in that seedy, cheap stage, selling seedy, cheap thrills for a few bucks. Only this girl here _enjoys_ it. She enjoys this, playing for those disgusting creeps hiding behind a mirror glass with their dicks in their hands. He feels sort of pathetic in a way, humiliated, so raw and exposed and desperate, such a horny slut for it, and that makes it only _better._ He rolls on his stomach and takes it like this, on his knees, butt in the air, and he can imagine all those guys sweating and groaning the ugly things they think about her, the things they'd do to her if they had the fucking balls, and Loki fucks himself and thinks _here's a close up of my asshole taking the dildo, fuckers, and it feels better than any of you ever could._  

Tony's panting next to him, taking care of himself. The whole set up is so fucking obscene and hot and _good._  And there's absolutely nothing wrong with Loki right now, _nothing._

So this is not your garden variety teenage heavy petting on mom and dad's couch, so what. So some people would call this kinky. And? Loki  _likes_ sex after all, what a fucking relief. He just likes it on his own terms. Doesn't everyone?

 _You're normal, boy,_  thinks Loki as he takes a step back and watches himself sobbing into the pillow, driving the dildo into his ass hard, moaning shamelessly - and he loves it.  _You're normal. Not your fucking fault some people's idea of normal is so pitifully narrow and restrictive. You're your own brand of normal, and (fuck what the entire fucking high school says, what do they know?) it's allowed. It's all good. Now, take it._

He takes it, alright. He takes it, and takes it, and takes it.

 

 

***

 

 

They’re both sated, they're clean, they're hydrated. They put on pajamas and get into the huge bed together.

Loki’s all mellow and purry. He has no problem when Tony holds his hand under the sheets. No problem when he pets his hair. No problem when he cuddles up and kisses him chastely on the lips. No problem at all. 

A few weeks ago, when they started settling into this kind of play, he told Tony he would try harder if Tony needed him to, and Tony told him, “ _I want us both to have a good time. I want what you want to give me, what you’re happy to give me. I don’t want anything you don't enjoy. I don't need more.”_

Still, it feels like Tony is the only one making concessions. Loki _still_ thinks he should be trying harder. That he _owes_ Tony more, whatever that means. (Touching. It means touching.) 

He thinks if he offered Tony that, Tony would jump on it. He's almost offered once or twice. It's not like he wasn't curious. It's not like it wasn't good that one time, until it wasn't anymore.

Perhaps if they'd had more time, Loki would have offered. Perhaps he would have enjoyed it. Maybe he wouldn't have freaked out afterwards.

But there isn't more time. And whenever Loki thinks of putting his hands on Tony, or Tony putting them on him... he doesn't have good sensations. It might just be nerves and ghost feelings from previous bad experiences. It might be that Loki still thinks only of Thor all the fucking time he's awake, not to mention the weird wet dreams, which leave him with a clammy, guilty feeling for the rest of the fucking day.  

 

“How long have you had this?” says Tony, pinching a fold of his pajama top. It looks like a baseball shirt.

“I don’t know.” And he mutters. “It was Thor’s. When he was twelve or something.”

Tony chuckles.

“Of course it was. …You get lots of his hand-me-downs?”

“I used to, when we were little, though he usually trashed his clothes before they could get to me. But now we have different tastes, and he’s three times as wide or something, so I can’t really use his stuff or I look like a hobo.”

“But you like his pajamas,” says Tony.

Loki doesn’t know why that makes him feel bashful.

“They’re worn down and comfy and soft,” he mutters, like he has to justify it.

“Do they smell like him?”

Loki rolls his eyes and smacks him with one of the many pillows. Tony laughs. _No, they don't,_ Loki is thinking. _I wish._

They get quiet. Tony turns out the light. They pull the blanket up -the nights are getting cooler.

“Are you definitely staying here, then?” asks Loki in the dark.

“Yeah. Mom and dad finally agreed. It's going to be official too, with a contract of internship and everything. I'm still on probation, but at least I'll be doing cool things.”

"I'm so fucking jealous," says Loki.

He gets his hand squeezed in solidarity.

"Hey, the second you graduate? You get your ass over here. My dad is dying to sign you up."

Loki actually takes some comfort in that. Something to look forward to.

"Don't get in trouble, eh?" says Loki. "You have a fucking great chance here. Don't be an idiot."

"I won't." says Tony. And after a breath, “I’ll miss you. Can I come see you from time to time?”

“Booty calls?”

“Or just calls. It’s up to you.”

“It’s all up to me, always,” sighs Loki.

“Yeah, it is.”

“I shouldn’t be left in charge of any decisions ever,” mumbles Loki.

Tony chuckles softly.

“I can’t fucking decide for you if you want this to carry on when I come to see you next year or not.”

“What do _you_ want?” pushes Loki.

“Lo, darling, sweetheart, you know I want everything from you. _With_ you. But I know you don’t want the same thing. So I’m… I keep my options open, and try not to get too fixated on things. I’ll take it as it comes.”

“And you’re really okay with that?”

“Like I've told you about a million times before, I’m really okay with that. I've had an awesome time with you, Loki. Best time I've ever had, actually, with anyone. I wouldn't have turned it down for the world. It's been worth it.”

Loki returns the hand squeeze under the sheets. They end up weaving their fingers together.

He wishes he could go from this to the rest of it, all that Tony's got waiting for him, if only Loki wanted it.

But he doesn't. He still doesn't. That's all he can give. That's all he can take. _You can't always get what you want_ and all that. But damn if Loki didn't get lucky this time, and got exactly what he needed.

“I’ll miss you too,” he mutters.

“You can call me anytime," whispers Tony. "Just say the word and I’ll send you a ticket. Or I’ll fly to you. Anything." He strokes Loki’s hair with tenderness. "I’m your friend, yeah? More than.” 

He kisses Tony’s face, breathes deeply in his arms.

“And if you feel like it, you know what I mean,” mutters Tony, “there’s always Skype. Yeah? I'm all for it. I'd be fucking delighted.”

“Maybe,” grins Loki. Yeah, he's flattered. “I thought you’d be too busy saving yourself for Miss Potts, though.”

“Miss Potts won’t give me the time of day until I am of age and I have proven my maturity and worthiness. She's a wise and powerful woman. Which is why I want to hand over my company and my entire life to her some day."

Loki chuckles. He loves to hear Tony talk about Pepper. Seriously, he's so fucking cute.

“What about… the entire rest of the city?" he asks. "The world is full of boys and girls for you to… And they won't have as many, uh, reticences as I do. You don’t really _need_ me, do you?”

In spite of the darkness, Loki can sense the eye-roll that goes with Tony's exasperate huff.

“Okay, first of all, you’re an idiot,” Tony declares. “And second of all, you’re an idiot. And that’s all I’m going to say on the subject. If you were fishing, you didn't catch anything this time. Off you fuck with your woe-is-me-worthless-nobody shit you got going. Told you to fucking drop it. It gets on my tits.”

Which Loki knows perfectly well. Self-loathing is a bad habit to indulge into. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles dutifully. "Didn't mean to piss you off."

“Yeah, I know you are," says Tony. "And I’m not pissed off. You’re an idiot. You can’t help it.”

Loki chuckles softly. Tony elbows him.

“Did you have to get special training to reach this level of stupid or does it come natural?”

“Bit of both,” says Loki, lighter in tone and mood.

"Well, you're really gifted."

"Thank you," Loki laughs.

Sigh.

“I _will_ miss you," says Loki.

“I know you will.”

“I had a great time. Not just..." He struggles. Tony doesn't lend a hand. It's fair. "This was good. The whole thing. _You_ were. Good for me.”

“…I’m glad,” says Tony. “It was good for me too."

“Good.”

“Great.”

“It’s not over yet, though,” says Loki. “We have a few days left.”

“Hm. Thank god for that.”

Loki grins.

“Good night,” he whispers, and kisses Tony’s cheek.

He feels Tony smiling close to him.

“Sleep tight.”

 

***

 

Loki’s flight landed late. Mom and dad are both waiting for him at the airport, perched behind the barrier at arrivals, and start calling out his name when he walks out. Dad takes a fucking _photo_. Loki ducks his head self-consciously. Mom squeezes him in a stranglehold and kisses him a dozen times. Dad gives him a virile -restrained but heartfelt - half hug, and pats his face with feeling, just short of a slap. Loki is mortified. He knows nobody gives a damn, but his unconscious is still telling him that everybody is fucking staring and sneering. Only a few hours ago, he was saying goodbye to his _boyfriend_ at the other end of the trip with a very grownup smooch. (They'd both been choked up. Tony is a right softie.) He definitely feels to old for this kind of display, from mom and dad, in full public view.

For the first ten minutes, in the car, he's interrogated relentlessly about Stark Tower and what goes on in there and what he’s been doing. Not that he hasn’t explained at length on the phone, several times, but okay, he’ll explain again.

"When is Tony coming back?" asks dad.

"He's not," says Loki.

"Oh!" exclaims mom, turning to dad, her eyes wide, alarmed.

"It's fine," Loki says. "He'll come visit from time to time."

"Oh."

Disappointment in the air.

"He said he'll come see him, Frig," says dad, and pats her leg, reassuring, as if it was _her_ Tony had left behind.

Loki catches his dad’s eye in the rearview mirror. Dad gives him a wink, and they smile at each other, complicit.

Unusual. Nice.

And still, there is something out of place about it all. To mom and dad, it's only been a few weeks and he's still their little boy. For Loki, on the other hand... He doesn't feel like a little boy at all, not anymore, as if instead of the summer and change, it had been entire years away from home.

He will smuggle this new found maturity into his old life at home like contraband. He'll tuck it away in the most remote, most secret place of his closet, with his lacy things, his leather things, his toys, and he'll be their little boy for a bit longer. It will be jarring at times, he's sure, but he won't quibble.

It's not just for them. As cool as NY is, and as bad as high school sucks, Loki's in no hurry to burn stages and lose the warmth of mom and dad's protective wings. It's exciting out there, but also scary. If Loki from the Future had a chance to speak to teenage him, he'd probably tell him,  _you have all the time in the world to grow up, kid. There is absolutely no rush._

 

“Shall we order a pizza?” says mom excitedly when they get home. “Or would you prefer something else?”

“I’m not really hungry,” says Loki.

Oh, mom’s expression. It’s hard wired into her, the panic, poor dear.

“I feel all bloated. It’s the plane I think,” explains Loki. “Maybe in a bit.”

She nods and hugs him again.

“Your brother says hi. He asked me to tell you he’s left something for you in your room.”

(Wait, he did what?)

 

His bedroom feels alien. And small, and dim, and awfully bereft of ensuite bathroom and lake views. Sigh. It's ever so neat and tidy too - not a speck of dust, not a sock forgotten on the floor, not a book out of line - that it almost looks fake, like a reproduction, a diorama in a museum, “the natural habitat of a young teenage boy.”

Apart from the unnatural tidiness, everything is as he left it. Only there is computer on his desk that wasn’t there before,  _Thor’s_ computer. He got a cool new laptop to use in college as a parting gift from mom and dad, so he didn't need his old one.

It’s not old-old, really. It was a good machine when they got it, and it still has a few years left in it. Even the graphic card was up to all the specs Loki’s art stuff needed last year, and probably this year as well, because Thor used it for gaming, mostly, so he upgraded that kind of thing as much as he could, with birthday money and what he got from mowing the lawn and cleaning windows or whatever.

Loki examines it warily as he puts all his bags down. This little asshole machine and its fucking graphic card started it all.

He turns the computer on, expecting to find it formatted to factory settings.

_It’s not._

Ooookay. Well, Thor is not the most organized boy in the world. It’s very _him_ , forgetting to clear up the fucking thing for his brother to use.

God knows what he’s left behind in that hard drive. God knows what Loki might find, when he starts poking his nose in it. (A shiver of vertigo.)

What’s blatantly  _not_ there is the green icon of the dating site, which his brother probably deleted while retching, then metaphorically doused it with bleach, then oil, and finally set it on fire. Oh well.

…Only, what the fuck is _that?_ A text document in the corner, unassuming, _don’t mind me, just hovering by._ Except it’s called, “For Sorrow.”

Loki’s stomach does a swoop. What the fuck. _What the fuck._

He hesitates. What the hell is he going to find in there? How bad is it going to hurt if he opens it?

 _Obtain info._ It was created only one week ago, a few days before Thor left for college. Last edits where on the day Thor actually left the house. What the actual fricking fuck. _What the hell is this?_

Let's think. From the date, this was written _after_ Thor told mom to tell Loki that "he wasn't so mad anymore." He might have been lying. He might have set Loki up to feel safe and relaxed, and dare to open this document, only to find a horrifying invective full of insults and threats and god knows what. Thor's revenge, served cold.

Somehow Loki doesn't believe that for one fucking second. And even if he did... Yeah, there's no way he could resist finding out what this is. ( _Oh, Loki, curiosity killed the cat...)_

(Yeah, and you know what? Satisfaction brought him back.) He double-clicks on the document; the word processor software starts. It takes for fucking _ever,_ or does it just feel so to him?

Ah, there it is, the document.

“Dear Sorrow,” it begins.

What the hell? It’s a letter.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you hate a cliff hanger?
> 
> And don't you hate it even more if I tell you I have Thor's letter right in front of my eyes as you read this??


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor's letter, and Loki's first day at school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE!! I'm as surprised as you!

 

 

_ “Dear Sorrow, _

_ I know it’s been a while. So much has gone down. It’s been hell. But it’s made me realize lots of things I hadn’t really thought about that are kind of important. Actually, they’re really important. _

_ First of all, I’ve realized that I have a dozen people I call good friends, buddies, and we’re supposed to be close, but I can’t talk to anyone. Not just about certain things, about anything. I don’t talk about things that matter to me. I think they would listen if I opened up, but I don’t. I don’t know what my problem is, or what I can do about it. But I’m very fucking lonely, and that’s a fact. _

_ Second thing I realized: I opened up with you. I told you everything. It was easy. I remember thinking to myself it was as if I’d known you all my life (hah.) Anyway, there is that. And now that I don’t have you, I fucking miss it very much. I miss  _ _ you _ _ very much. And I feel lonelier than ever. _

_ I used to talk to you in my head a lot, before all this shit went down. Then I stopped. Now I’ve started again. I write you letters in my head and I tell you how I feel. For a while, it was like writing to someone who was dead, and it broke my heart, but I had to let it out, and this was the only way I knew how. Then it changed. Not sure how or why exactly, but it doesn’t feel like talking to a dead person anymore. So I can talk to you and you can’t respond, but in a way I feel like you are listening, and that makes me feel better.  _

_ Because you’re not dead, are you? You’re not real, you never really existed, so you can’t be dead.  _

_ But I guess what’s changed is that now it’s sort of sunk in that there is a part of you that does exist, and always did. That part is alive and it’s real, and this is the part of you I am talking to now. This is the part that makes me feel that is listening. _

_ So anyway I want to tell you about my woes, like I used to, because it made me feel better.  _

_ My brother did something. It was not a good thing. At first I thought it was a really, really bad thing, and I can’t put into words how it made me feel, hard as I try. I couldn’t even bear to think about it. I was furious, I felt betrayed, I hurt like I’d been stabbed in the heart. I had to push it down, deep down, and put a lid on it, just to be able to carry on with my life. And it was there festering for weeks, making me think the worst possible things about my brother.  _

_ But then my brother told me something that changed how I saw it all. It’s not like it made everything magically alright, and I can’t say it’s all sorted and right as rain, (because well, you know, there’s the THING, but we’ll get to that) but it did change things for the better.  _

_ At first I thought this was an evil scheme to fuck me up. And I know that this is how it started, but for a while I thought that’s all it was, and dude, I was choking on it. I imagined my brother laughing behind my back as he twisted my brain, making me believe in things that didn’t exist and making me really care, all the better to rip me to shreds. I thought of us talking again as brothers, making me believe things were getting better between us, like he was playing nice to my face, and then playing with my mind and waiting for the day he’d tell me the truth and fucking kill me with it. It was vengeance, I thought, start to finish, and let me tell you, it fucking worked, because it broke my heart. _

_ But like I say, when he explained how it actually happened, even though there’s still a part of it I don’t even know how to begin to handle, the way I felt about it all took a different turn. Yes, it started as revenge, but somewhere along the way it changed for him, in a way he did not expect, beyond his control, and he suffered a lot for it too. (Did I get it right?) _

_ So it turns out my little brother is not a fucking psychopath hell bent on making me suffer. He’s just a fucking idiot. I mean, he went to really extreme lengths to basically shoot himself in the foot, the jerk.  _

_ And he would have shot himself in the foot, even if things hadn’t gone the way they did. Even if his ridiculous plan had worked out the way he intended, did he think I wouldn’t find out who was behind it? I  _ _ can _ _ fucking add two and two and get four. And did he expect I would go hah hah well played you win and forget about it? It would have been all-out war. Is that what he fucking wanted?? _

_ Anyway, the sin carried the penitence, so. I hope he’s learned something from this. _

_ As for myself, I  _ _ have _ _ definitely learned a few things. One of them is that I feel guilty as hell. Because I  _ _ have _ _ been a mean shit to him for years for no good reason. For no fucking reason, really. And it’s not like I didn’t realize I was doing it. I just didn’t feel like trying to do better. And looking back, I realize that’s been like this for a long time, forever. I’ve never  _ _ tried _ _ for him. Even when he was sick, I didn’t try. I did the bare minimum, and that only because they made me. I’m a selfish prick, always have been. Always me me me. And he needed me then and he might have needed me these last few years, and I decided not to be there for him because. Because I thought I had better things to do or I didn’t feel like it or because I was jealous of the attention he got or all the above and then some. _

_ So for many weeks after I found out about what my brother had done, I was furious and hurt and going all “what the hell have I done for him to hate me like this”, but underneath, deep inside, I  _ _ knew _ _ where it was coming from, and I  _ _ did _ _ have it coming. I  _ _ deserved _ _ it. For all those years not being there for him like I should have. If I had tried to walk in his shoes for like one second, I would have realized how much he was hurting, and that it was terrible that he felt like that, and that  _ _ I didn’t want him to feel like that _ _ , and I would have realized that I  _ _ needed _ _ to do something about it. But I didn’t  _ _ think _ _. I didn’t  _ _ try _ _. And he suffered. My little brother who needed me. I left him there alone in pain. I’m so sorry about that, and I want him to know. I’m so fucking sorry about that.  _ _ I’m sorry.  _ _ I was an asshole and a selfish dick.  _

_ So  _ _ he’s _ _ been an asshole who got himself into something beyond his ken, and  _ _ I’ve _ _ been an asshole who wasn’t there for him when he needed me, but when it’s all said and done the bottomline is really very fucking simple: neither of us hate each other or want the other to suffer.  _

_ And it’s just very fucking sad that something like that has had to happen to make us stop and think, both of us. We have been a pair of fucking idiots. (And I still  _ _ am _ _ an idiot. I mean, I can’t even say any of this to him directly. I can’t just grab the phone and tell him all this, because I’d probably make a big fat mess out of it all, and because I’m just not ready to deal with him, not even in fucking writing. Good grief.) _

_ But I really need him to know that I’m not angry anymore. That _ _ I don’t hate him _ _ , and I never did, and that I’m sorry for acting like I did. That  _ _ I love him _ _. I always have and I always will. That I want to be a better brother. That I will try harder from now on. _

_ Now. There’s the other thing. He knows what thing I’m talking about.  _

_ At first I meant to wait to clear things up with myself before I wrote this letter, but then I realized this may never fucking happen, so. _

_ I’ll just be honest. I don’t know how to feel about that thing. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know how to even get near it. It makes me feel very weird, but that’s just a word and what I feel is a lot more things than that, but I haven’t got the words for it. It just feels like I’m in way above my head and that all I can do if I touch this is fuck up and make it worse. _

_ I try to understand. It’s just beyond me. Doesn’t fit in my head. That he sees me the way he says, or feels about me the way he says. I want to try to understand because we won’t be getting anywhere if I don’t, but I’m not sure I can. Anyway, I hope if he gives me time, I will understand eventually. I will keep trying. _

_ For what it's worth, I think he’s got things all mixed up. That he’s confusing things. That he’s lost sight of reality, or got too caught up in the fiction or whatever. I don’t think it’s real the way he says it is.  _

_ But anyway, right now it doesn’t matter what I think, it matters what he  _ _ feels _ _ , and I’m worried about that. I don’t want him to hurt. If he wants to idk talk to a therapist or something and tell them everything, that’s okay by me. He needs to do whatever he needs to get things fixed.  _

_ But most importantly, what I need him to know is that  _ _ I don’t blame him  _ _ for it, okay? I know he didn’t mean for it to happen, that he’s been through hell about it too.  _

_ And that I understand now why it was so hard for him to let go.  _

_ Because now I know how lonely it gets. When you’ve never had it, you don’t know what you’re missing. But now I know. It felt so good talking to you, Sorrow. It felt so good to  _ _ have _ _ you. And I shut my eyes to lots of red flags because I wanted it to be real and I didn’t want it to end.  _

_ So I think I get why things happened the way they happened. And like I say, I don’t think he’s to blame for that. And if he thinks he is (because I do know him a little) and he needs to hear this, then here it comes:  _ _ I forgive him.  _

_ There are some things I need him to hear, and hear myself say: I said horrible things to him that day; he knows what day I mean. Horrible things. I’m so sorry I said those things. They’re not true. With a cool head and some time to  _ _ think _ _ , I don’t really believe anything I called him. I realize how horrible it must have been for him anyway, and I’m so honestly, truly, deeply fucking  _ _ sorry _ _. I wish I could take it all back.  _

_I wish I had just let him talk that day and explain. I wish I hadn’t screamed at him like I did. I wish I could change_ _everything_ _about that day. I can’t, so I’ll just say again how much I regret it. I wish I’d_ _never_ _ever_ _in our lives had made him feel afraid of me. I_ _never_ _will again, so fucking help me. I will_ _never_ _hurt him willingly ever again. I’ll take anger management courses or whatever, I will do whatever I have to do so that I never lose my temper like that again. That is a_ _promise_ _. It won’t undo what happened and how it made him feel, how_ _I_ _made him feel, but I want him to know how serious I am about this. I know it’s unforgivable, and I won’t ask him to forgive me, but I’ll never stop working for it either, and maybe one day he’ll come to believe that I have earned it._

_ I know I told him we’d never talk about this again and that we would pretend it never happened, but that was wrong too. Pretending it never happened won’t make it go away, and we need to fix it somehow, because when all is said and done, all that matters is that he’s my  _ _ brother _ _ and _ _ I love him. _

_ That’s really all there is. And if nothing else, this fucking mess has made me realize this, and it’s important. And I didn’t realize how important it was before, how much this means to me. At least we got this one good thing out of it all. And I wish we could have come to the same place much much earlier, and by less painful and fucked up means, but it is what it is. _

_ I’m not sure when I’ll be ready to actually talk about this with him, but I’ll work on it, because we can’t leave it like this, can we? _

_ This letter is kind of all over the place, I know. I’m not even sure I should be doing this, talking to you, Sorrow, knowing how my brother feels. I’m making it all more messed up, ain’t I? But I didn’t know how else to say this and I needed him to know.  _

_ Anyway. Look after yourself. _

_ Love, _

_ Storm” _

 

_________

 

It’s been about an hour since Loki finished reading the letter (and he’s read it again a couple dozen times since), and he’s accomplished just one thing — moving from the chair to the bed and laying there, feeling all the while as if he’d been run over by a steam train. 

He’s heard about the five stages of grief -of course, who hasn’t. He hadn’t heard about the five stages of… whatever the hell it is that he is feeling. The only thing that’s clear is that there is a  _ lot _ . Like,  _ so much _ . 

This letter, this goddamn letter. It’s good, right? It’s great. It’s… positive, wonderful, fantastic, amazing, awesome, excellent, marvelous, ace, splendid, wicked, rad.  _ Thor forgives him. _ Thor is not angry anymore. Thor doesn’t hate him. Thor is sorry about a bunch of things. Thor understands a bunch of other things that happened. Thor wants to make things right between them. Thor loves him.  _ Thor loves him.  _ It’s all there in writing, underlined and bolded and italicized even, because his brother is a man of emphatic emotions. And everybody knows Thor has a big heart, but it’s turned out to be the size of a fucking bus. Talk about getting over oneself. Talk about self-examination and contrition. Talk about acknowledging faults and mistakes and owning them. Talk about a full apology. 

So why does it feel… like this? Why isn’t Loki bursting at the seams with joy, gratitude, and enthusiasm? What is it that’s bugging him so much? 

He can answer that easily with another question:  _ What the hell were you expecting? _ -“Dearest Loki, I love you too, in the sexy way, and we should fuck. Yours in heart body and mind, your totally incestuous brother, Thor. xoxo” 

No, it’s not that. It’s not that. He wasn’t expecting a love confession. Dreaming about it, maybe, but he’s not that delusional yet, not yet. 

It’s just… Okay, he’ll read the fucking thing again.

_ “Dear Sorrow,” _

So, for one, Thor cannot look him in the eye yet. Its epistolary translation is that he cannot address Loki by name, but needs to do something that Freud probably had a term for, and would have plenty of analysts rubbing their hands in greedy glee. 

Thor realizes this and owns it. And Loki understands it, and he doesn’t blame his brother for it. But hell, it’s there. Thor claims he wants to make things right and sort things out with his little brother, but he might still be struggling with the fact that he’s jerked off to said little brother’s lingerie shots, among many other complicated things that have happened between them. 

Fair enough. Nobody said this would be easy. They have a long way to go yet. So it’s capital and splendid and super and all that, but there’s still that. For all of Thor’s good intentions, Loki wrote to him that he wanted to suck him off and take him in the ass and  _ meant _ it, and well, this kind of thing tends to stick around, even with the best intentions from all parties involved.

_ Especially _ when Loki still wants to… see above.

So yeah, that’s a bit of a stumbling block. And Loki is not sure if he wanted Thor to ignore all that and move on ahead, or… Hell, he wishes Thor was talking to  _ him _ . He wishes he had said all of those things to  _ him _ . _ (Oh, Loki. You’re not getting jealous of  _ her _ again, are you?) _

The second thing that steps out of the mists of confusion when Loki reads the letter for the twenty-third time or so, is this little bit here:

_ “For what is worth, I think he’s got things all mixed up. That he’s confusing things. That he’s lost sight of reality, or got too caught up in the fiction or whatever. I don’t think it’s real the way he says it is.” _

And Thor means well, of course, the whole thing is cushioned in his best feelings of affection and support, but when push comes to shove…  _ How the hell are you so sure, asshole? You’re saying I’m delusional? You’re saying I can’t tell fiction from reality?  _ It’s the condescension, Loki guesses, and it makes him feel cold and tough inside.  _ You’re the one who’s struggling to look himself in the mirror, Thor, not me. _

And then of course, there is this,

_ “Because you’re not dead, are you? You’re not real, you never really existed, so you can’t be dead. But I guess what’s changed is that now it’s sort of sunk in that there is a part of you that does exist, and always did. That part is alive and it’s real, and this is the part of you I am talking to now. This is the part that makes me feel that is listening.” _

Damn right she’s real. And you  _ loved _ her. You were crazy about her. She was your one true love. You wanted to fuck her.  _ You fucked her. _ In your thoughts, in your dreams. And she is right fucking here. She never existed, you say? Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, brother.

Does Thor realize this? Does he realize that this is one of the parts of the situation he can’t deal with yet? What will happen when he does? Or will that never happen, because Thor will go to whatever lengths to make sure that it doesn’t?

So the state of affairs is becoming clearer here in the town hall of Lokiville, the ruckus-makers inside are sort of splitting up and taking their seats, and the many parties involved in this mess are resolving into two main factions. This faction over here, Thor’s brother, is ecstatic. This is everything he could have asked for, hoped for, dreamed of. He is forgiven. He is understood. He is loved. _ He is forgiven. _ It’s good. It’s all good. Really, no shadowy areas, no unsatisfactory points. That faction got everything in the wishlist, their checklist is ticked in full, their cup is brimming. That faction wants to go to their knees and sob in gratitude with perfect, glistening joy.

The other faction has a cold, hard stare, their arms are crossed, and they feel something like contempt. That faction, surprise surprise, is Sorrow. 

It’s really not like Loki saw there was a fucking letter there and believed for one second that “Dear Sorrow” would ever close with “Call me, Thor.” It’s really not that. Sorrow is not disappointed. She didn’t have that kind of expectations. But there is nothing there for her. Not really. Not after what she’s already had. This is an ex-lover’s letter, if anything. It’s cold and distant, and it’s full of promises and emotions that have nothing to do with her. 

So it turns out that Thor is totally right, and Sorrow is very fucking real, and she’s wondering why the fuck is her ex-boyfriend bothering her now with messages for his goddamn little brother. .

Loki takes deep breaths, and rubs his face, and huffs, and tries with everything he’s got to get the fuck over himself.  _ Don’t be such a little bitch; Thor threw in everything he’s got. The least you can fucking do is… _

What  _ is _ the least Loki can fucking do?  _ What _ can he reply? What does Thor expect from him? What does Loki want to put in the letter? 

And what is more, which things are really safe to mention? What is Thor really ready to deal with? What constitutes mined terrain and can blow up and fuck up the entirety of these peace talks, which have only just begun? Because yes, Loki does want these peace talks to continue, no matter what Sorrow says or feels.

Actually, there is a question the answer to which pretty much sets the tone for everything else: what does  _ he,  _ Loki,  want from this? Well, not ‘want,’ but ‘hope for.’ Not ‘hope for’ — expect. Not  _ expect,  _ but… But  _ what _ ? Ugh. Splitting hairs so fine here we’ll be needing an atomic microscope to keep track.

What does Loki really want? Loki… wants his brother back. Loki wants his brother’s love. Loki wants Thor to fall in love with him right back and… And then what? 

Oh, Loki. That will never fucking happen. And even if it did… Can you imagine the mess? Do you think Thor would be happy if that came to pass? You’re  _ brothers _ . There is no place on earth where they would get to… live their lives, not like  _ that _ .

What you want, asshole, would break both your fucking hearts. And it would end your chances at a relationship forever.  _ Any _ relationship, but definitely one in which you can be together in the same room and… Just  _ be _ . 

It cannot happen. But what is more, it better not fucking happen. _ It cannot be. _

And that sucks. 

Go ahead, for the next few minutes you’re allowed to let yourself feel the full extent of the suckiness of it. It really fucking sucks that you won’t get your heart’s (and loins’) desire.  _ Impossible _ hurts.  _ Hopeless _ hurts. Not in your life, and not even in your dreams. It  _ hurts _ .

But hell, Loki, you already  _ knew _ . This doesn’t cut, not really; it just rubs into some deep, raw grooves your own thoughts and realizations already left there in all your tenderest places. So take a deep fucking breath and just… celebrate, goddammit. Ungrateful little shit, only a few weeks ago you thought you had lost him forever! Now here he is, with open arms, offering love and forgiveness and friendship and apologizing for hurting  _ you! _ So fucking… take all that, and fucking hold it tight, and just… 

Sorrow fights it. Sorrow despises all of it. Sorrow has no patience for Thor’s refusal to look at things straight. She wants to slap him and shove Thor’s nose in it and make him  _ see _ . She doesn’t accept  _ impossible _ . She absolutely refuses  _ hopeless _ . She’s had it  _ all _ , she’s had  _ everything _ , and to her this tastes like hypocrisy and cowardice and ashes.

Sigh.

So they’ll have to agree, after all, that Sorrow wasn’t real. Both Thor  _ and _ him. They’ll have to make a pact. They’ll have to kill her and bury her deep. They’ll have to let her go and forget. 

And Storm too. They both must die. Because right now, Sorrow is filling Loki’s skin from head to toe, and she’s not happy. And Loki  _ wants _ to be happy about this, he wants to  _ want _ nothing more. He wants to be fully, unmistakably happy. Grateful and enthusiastic and… Not so  _ in love _ with his brother that he can’t fucking…  _ Love him. _

Wishes and dreams and hopes and delusions. Damn.

Loki sighs miserably again and sits down to compose a reply. He wants to say a bunch of things, but he can’t think of any. 

But he wants to… to get this ball rolling. He wants to open a channel of communication with his brother. He wants something to happen; he wants change. 

He’s not stupid, he won’t hope for what cannot be. But they’ve been in pain and not talking for months now, and that’s quite enough of that, isn’t it? Thor is offering a hand. Loki needs to get over his fucking shit and give something back. 

But guess what -It refuses to happen until he takes one page out of Thor’s book and lets Sorrow do the talking for him. 

 

_ “Dear Storm, _

_ Your brother was so happy when he found this letter. He read it again and again and again. It meant so much to him, like you wouldn’t believe.  _

_ You say so many things in it, it’s hard to know where to start. _

_Your brother has felt terribly guilty and just fucking awful all these months, thinking he had lost you completely and forever, thinking about the pain he had caused you, and fearing there was no making it better. He so so so wants to make it better._ _Not sure how, not sure how he can undo what he has done, or unsay the things he’s said, and maybe that’s the only way to really fix this. And he doesn’t want to stop feeling what he feels. So maybe this can’t be fixed after all. Maybe you’re going to have to build something else with what is left._ _He wants to try._

_ Also, you’re being way too hard on yourself, beating yourself up over things that are not really your fault. You’re being unfair to yourself. Because your brother wasn’t a passive actor in the cold war that’s been your relationship for the last few years. It wasn’t just down to you, so you can’t just shoulder the entire burden. If you forgive your brother, you have to forgive yourself a little too. _

_ About the other thing. I can only try to imagine how much it’s fucked you up, and your brother feels really awful about it. He didn’t mean for it to happen. And after it happened, he would have happily taken the secret to his grave and never let you know about it, because it could only cause you pain, and he knew it. _

_ But it happened, and you found out, and here it is.  _

_ He’s grateful for what you said about talking about it someday. There is so much he wants to tell you, calmly, besides those few words that day--you know the ones. But he’ll wait until you’re ready.  _

_ But even if you’re never ready, even then, it’s alright. He totally gets that maybe it’s too much for you, and he doesn’t want to make you feel bad. He’s caused you enough pain. So it’s up to you. If you ever feel up to it, if you think it will help, he will be waiting. Whatever you need to deal with this, he will adapt to it. He wants to be a better brother too. _

_ As for me,  _ _ I just want you to know that you don’t have to feel lonely. That I am here for you. That I’ve missed you more than I can say. For what is worth, Sorrow is here, and if you could feel it when I am thinking about you you would never feel lonely. _

(ugh. Try again.)

_ As for me, I am here. I am here for anything you want to talk about. Big things or small things or little nothings. If you need it, if you feel like it, at least this part can be a little like it was before.  _ _ I’d love that more than anything. I’ve never felt closer to anyone, I’ve never felt as important and as cherished and  _

(Better keep it, uh,  _ neutral _ .)

_ I know I’ve broken your trust, but now maybe you understand that it was not out of malice, that I did what I did (selfishly, true) to protect that thing, because nothing mattered as much to me in the world. And I was trying to do the noble thing, the right thing, when I had to let it go,  _ _ and it was the hardest fucking thing that I’ve ever had to do, and I know it was too little too late,  _ _ but anyway at least now you understand what was happening backstage and can make sense of it, and perhaps look at the whole thing with not so much resentment and hurt. I mean, I hope it helps you, I really really hope so. I wish I could just magically wipe out the hurt, but I can’t. All I can do is explain myself. _

_ There are so many more things I want to say, but I’m afraid they’ll come out wrong, or that maybe you don’t want to hear them yet, or maybe never. Please forgive me if I overstepped in this letter. I don’t mean to, I swear. I want to make this right. Your brother wants to make this right, not fuck it up even worse.  _ _ He loves you so much. And so do I.  _

_ I think I’ll close now because I might be fucking up already.  _

_ Please write soon. Or message me whenever. I’ll be logged on all the time, waiting. And I’ll wait as long as I have to, as long as you need. _

_ Thank you so much Storm. Thank you for giving me a second chance.  _

_ Write soon. _

_ Love,  _

_ Sorrow.” _

  
  


God, it’s crap. It’s crap on so many levels. It’s… It’s all wrong and bad. It’s stupid and whiny and pathetic and meek, and he had to force the ‘thank yous’ because Sorrow really didn’t want them there.  _ Humiliating _ , she said. 

But he won’t manage anything that makes her happy.  _ Nothing _ will ever make her happy. Nothing that is reasonable to expect. Nothing that can  _ be. _ Loki has to think as little old him.

Inhale, exhale.

_ Send. _

Okay, now we wait.

 

 

***

 

 

It’s still hot and girls still wear skimpy dresses and boys wear shorts, but Loki feels a distinct touch of autumn in the air. It’s only a brushstroke here and there. The tips of the leaves of that one bush already turning red, the slight chill in the air first thing in the morning, and after the sun sets. He’s put away his sandals and all his summer clothes. He doesn’t feel like wearing them anymore. Another school year is about to begin, but Loki is not feeling at the beginning of anything. Everywhere he looks, there’s things withering away, dying down, ending.

The displays in the shops at the mall are decidedly autumnal too, some bordering on wintry. They walk among the faux leather jackets and long wool/polyester blend pants with Darcy, turning their noses at it all. 

“Oh my god,  _ this _ ,” she exclaims at the presence of a brown leather mini-skirt. “With really high boots. Don’t you think?”

“Hm,” says Loki, noncommittal. He won’t say it, but she doesn’t have the legs for this; mini-skirts make her look squat. 

He checks the price tag, and ooookay, he will not have to give his opinion after all. He shows it to her, her eyebrows shoot up. 

“Real leather.”

“Doesn’t look like real leather,” he muses, with contempt. “Not worth it.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” She puts it back, with a sigh.

 

They came for school supplies, really, and they already got those. They sit at an indoor cafeteria and Darcy proclaims they should have the last ice cream of the summer. 

They’re both morose today, deflated. Loki’s mind is miles away.

“School, sigh,” she says, when she’s polished off her mint and chocolate ice cream. 

“Yeah, sigh,” he concurs, and then he proceeds to actually sighing, although it’s not school that’s occupying his thoughts. It’s been two days since he sent his reply to Thor, but it feels like fucking weeks,  _ months _ .

“We’ll be alright,” she says, and slurps some coke. “We’re survivors.”

Loki pulls half a smile. They toast with their paper cups. 

 

 

***

 

 

_ “Good morning, peach! Have a nice day xxxxxxx” _

Tony’s message wakes him up seconds before the phone’s alarm goes off. Loki smiles drowsily at the screen. He replies with a kissy and a winky emoji. 

He stares at the ceiling, confronting reality. It’s morning. Time has run out, and there’s no last minute reprieve (“The school burned down tonight! A hurricane wiped out the roads! The zombie apocalypse is upon us! You don’t have to go to school today!”). For a moment, he feels like crying. It passes quickly.

He drags himself up and out of bed. He lets out a heavy, unhappy breath. 

Okay, campers. Rise and shine. Fucking sigh.

He picks his clothes as if he’s gearing up for battle. He’s ready for a long and lonely year, full of unpleasantness. If they want to break his face, Thor won’t be there to make them think twice. If sitting all alone in a corner of the cafeteria makes people think he’s pathetic, Tony won’t be there to stick by him. He’s a smart-ass, he’s queer, he’s arrogant, and he’s on his own. Bullies have powerful, ruthless victim radars, so there is no point in trying to lay low. And let’s be honest, even if there was, that’s just not the Loki way. Certainly not after last year, and this summer. So his jeans are tight, his t-shirts torn, his eyeliner on point, his nail polish black, and his attitude?  _ Come at me. _ If Jared and his asshole friends have anything to  _ say _ to him, he’ll totally stand there and moan “oh yes, harder daddy.”

 

It’s his first day, so mom took time off to drive him to school. Which should humiliate him or something, because he’s not a child anymore and all that, he’s a fierce young man going into battle, but you know what, fuck it. He is not here to play the independent sullen teenager for anyone. He’ll take the ride to school and save himself the bus today, thank you very much.

“You look good. Cute. Handsome, I mean,” she comments, while stuck in traffic.

His first instinct is to make a dismayed, grunting noise, and react as if she’s mocking him or something. 

He  _ totally _ would have snapped at her only one year ago. But this is not last year, and he doesn’t snap. She’s trying, so he will too.

“Thanks, mom,” he mumbles, mortified just the same.

“Who taught you? How to do your makeup I mean.”

“Darcy.”

“Of course.”

He sees his face in the side mirror. He sees himself how mom must see him. 

“Is it okay?” he asks, in a timid murmur.

“Yes, yes, it’s perfectly fine,” she says, forcing her smile extra wide. “You look very nice. Darcy must be very good. Is she going to go to beauty school or something?”

“No, actually she wants to be a weather girl.”

“Oh! That’s interesting.”

If you say so, mom.

“If somebody says anything to you at school…” she says, after a long silence. “You know what I mean. You don’t have to put up with it, you know?”

“The school won’t do a thing,” he huffs.

“Well then, in that case, I will,” she declares.

“Mooom…” He’s fucking picturing it. He would facepalm, but he might fuck up his makeup.

“Homophobia, that’s hate speech. It’s a federal offense.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not.”

“Well, it damn well should be!”

Loki stares at her, between embarrassment, affection, and even a little bit of awe. He knows his mom. She’s not stupid, or naive, or self-deluded. She knows how the world is. But she’s willing to throw all of her cynicism out the window to stand for her son. He’s all tight for a moment with a burst of love.

“You will tell me, won’t you?” she insists. “If they… start harassing you?”

He sighs, unable to lie to her face about it.

“It’s not just for your sake!” she argues. “There must be other kids out there that get… pestered. Bullied. Discriminated against. Maybe their parents don’t care or don’t have the means to do anything about it, but  _ we _ do, and we  _ will _ . It’s the bullies that should be scared, not you! Don’t you think? So if somebody hurts you, or threatens you, or even looks at you the wrong way… Promise me you will not just keep quiet about it. I am here, and I’ll stand by you. We’ll do what we have to do. We’ll start a campaign or something. We’ll put the living fear of god inside the goddamn school director and force the school to get their act together. But you have to tell me, alright? If not for you, for the other kids. Okay?”

Loki sighs again. And he still cannot lie.

“...Okay,” he says. And that’s a promise.

She smiles tightly, reassured. She feels more at ease already.  _ Well, that wasn’t so hard after all, was it Lokes? ( _ Oh great, Tony’s in his head now.)

“Thanks, mom,” he even manages.

“I love you, darling,” she says, too emotional too early in the morning.

“Me too,” he says. 

And, there you go. That’s all it took. He just made her day.   
  


 

***

 

 

Beneath a calm exterior, Loki is on high alert since the minute he steps on the school grounds. He looks at the kids running and meeting friends and laughing. Inside him is chilly and full of sharp, cutting edges.

_ We get on with it, _ he tells himself.  _ We keep going until it’s done. We tick this day off, and then the next, and the next, and the next. And when enough of them are ticked off, this will be over, and your life can finally fucking start. We get through purgatory and we come out the other end purified. Or some shit. Anyway, this won’t be over unless we start, so one foot in front of the other. Let’s go. _

He walks into the classroom with his head high, ready for the bullshit to start. 

But it doesn’t. For once, nobody gives him a second look. There is a new student sitting at the back, a gorgeous black girl with shaved hair, assorted piercings, and a fierce stare. She has a solid, deep frown deeply set in, and her jaw clenched. She came expecting the attention, and she’s ready for it.  _ Actually _ ready, unlike  _ some _ who mind their posture but inside are like shivering autumn leaves. 

This girl is fearless. She’s seen some shit, and she’s still standing. She’s come fighting back. She’s been to hell, and this is nothing. She’s surrounded by pitiful peasants who don’t deserve her interest, her time, and definitely not her fear. She’s  _ unassailable _ . God, what Loki wouldn’t give to give those vibes himself.

She hasn’t even looked at him yet, and she’s already saved him once, shielded him and drawn all the fire to herself. She didn’t do it for him, but Loki is grateful nonetheless.

 

Must be before third period or so, when Loki spots the new girl in the hallway, by her locker, and two older guys standing too close to her. Loki can’t hear what they’re saying, but they’re smirking and crowding her and he really doesn’t need to hear. The girl has her back to them, ignoring them, so blasé, like it takes nothing from her. Fucking  _ flies,  _ they don’t even deserve the effort of swatting them away.

The boys are feeling the infinite contempt emanating from her every gesture, the blazing lack of fear, the boredom they induce. They don’t like it.

It happens almost too quickly for Loki to follow. One of the guys goes to put one hand on her shoulder, presumably to get her to turn around and face them. She grabs the guy’s wrist and twists his arm, a movement so perfect and assured it’s like a dance; the other guy lunges to help, or god knows what, and she throws a formidable kick right into his nuts that sends him flying back. He falls on his ass.  _ Wow _ . She hisses something in the first guy’s ear, and shoves him away so hard, his back crashes against the lockers on the opposite wall with a clang.

All action around them has frozen.  _ This girl has fucking superpowers. _

The guy who’s been kicked in the nuts is coughing. The other one rubs his shoulder and looks pale. The girl finishes picking up her books, shuts her locker, and struts away, leaving the boys behind like she’s already forgotten about them.

There is a rustle of excitement and quiet celebration in the hallway. Every single girl, and every single punching bag-kid in the area have felt a vicarious shiver of triumph running through their bodies. Those who haven’t had the good fortune of being witnesses to the little scene, will hear of it soon. Like everybody else, Loki’s thinking,  _ who is she. _

 

She still saves him one more time before that day is done. When he goes to the cafeteria, alone of course, Jared, Cullen and the rest get in the queue behind him. The hair on the back of Loki’s neck stands on end.

And sure enough, here it comes.

“How many dicks did you suck this summer, Odinson?” says Jared, with a choir of noises of approval from his mates all around him, an ugly  _ hur hur hur. _

“Hard as I tried, I couldn’t break your record, Jar-Jar,” Loki answers. 

Jared’s friends find that hilarious.  _ Uh-oh. _

Loki gets his food, shaky. The energy around him is already crackling, a storm gathering. Indeed, Jared follows him to his table. He’s gonna do something. He leans over him on the table. Ooooh dear here we go.

But just then, a tray smashes down with a loud clang next to Loki. Both him and Jared are startled. It’s the new girl. She sits down, and glares at Jared.  _ Go on and tell me what you had to say to him, big boy, I dare you. _

Jared looks from her to Loki, and back at her. And he walks away.  _ He scatters with his tail between his legs.  _

It’s fucking poetry in motion. It’s what the visual equivalent of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony must look like. Hell fucking  _ yeah _ .

Loki turns to her, in awe. She just throws him a quick look, and starts eating. 

Gorging, more like. Wolfing it all down. Loki tries not to stare, but dude, superpowers make you hungry, don’t they?

She’s cleaned up her tray, and she’s about to leave.

Loki hasn’t touched his food. He pushes the tray one inch towards her. She throws him a look. He holds her stare. He’s very fucking intrigued about it all, but tries not to show it. He tries to project nothing but a friendly “go ahead.”

She grabs his tray, and eats Loki’s food too.

 

They meet one last time that day. At the bus stop. 

Loki wants to thank her, or introduce himself, or say something, anything. Doesn’t know what. The vibes surrounding her are still pretty hostile overall. It’s like she has a forcefield around her, grumpy and short-tempered and dangerous, and Loki’s not entirely sure that he’s in her good graces yet. 

When he gets to his stop, she goes on. She doesn’t look back.

Loki walks home with his mind busy with thoughts of this new girl. It’s only when he crosses the threshold of his house that he realizes -he made it through his first day, unscathed. 

Deep, deep breath. Thank god, one down.

 

 

***

 

 

When he gets out of the shower that evening, he mindlessly checks his phone screen in passing, and he spots it instantly. There is a little envelope sign by the icon of the dating app. When he picks up the phone, his hands shaking with the rush of adrenaline.

 

_ Storm99 is now online. _

 

_ Storm99: hey _

_ Storm99: i hope u had a good day _

_ Storm99: i heard u. im crazy busy right now & everything is new & confusing, but when i find my feet & i can focus more ill write. _

_ Storm99: PS: u didnt fuck up. mayb it takes some time to work out how to handle these talks but its ok we’ll work it out. i promise not 2 get pissed off or offended or whatever unless u mean 2 piss me off, if u promise not 2 try 2 piss me off. does that make sense? _

_ Storm99: eventually i mean 2 talk about whatever we need to talk about 2 make things right, though not straight away bc yeah i still feel very _

_ Storm99: idk how i fucking feel about it all _

_ Storm99: but i dont want u 2 b afraid of me or b afraid about what u say ok? when im uncomfortable ill say so but no harm done ok? _

_ Storm99: i mean that we’ll work out whats out of bounds for now and what i can deal with at present and what will take more time, but if u ‘overstep’ accidentally i wont react. badly, i mean. _

_ Storm99: shit im not making any sense. but ur clever ull figure it out. _

_ Storm99: anyway gotta go got class. talk soon. take care. _

 

_ Storm99 has logged out. _

  
  


 

***

 

 

“How was your first day, honey?” asks mom when they’re having dinner. She tries to hide it, but there’s no passing by Loki’s trained ear that anxious undertone.

“Not bad,” says Loki. 

And smiles a little. He finds with surprise that he means it.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> All the people tempted to leave a "pls update" comment pls see me in my tumblr blog
> 
> http://incredifishface.tumblr.com
> 
> LOVE, the writer.


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